The Scarlet Crown
by addine995
Summary: Their affair would have to remain a closely guarded secret. For if the King found out, he would strip them both of their royal status and to hell with laws and traditions. Aphrodite might be able to get away with it, but Ares would certainly not. Zeus had already threatened him one too many times. He ought to behave or he'd lose the few privileges he had. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey guys! As promised, I tried to upload this whole thing asap. Sorry if this sucks, I'm officially terrible at writing first chapters... Anyway, exams are coming up so the next update will be late. Uni is a killer...**

 **Also: I am trying to make a mix out of the historical events that happened in Greece from the 1950s onwards and the actual myths, so it goes without saying, there will be changes and inaccuracies to the myths. Trying to imagine everyone in modern times is hard enough, let alone them being royal... For clarity's sake, I had to leave some of them behind or else we'd get everything too messed up.  
**

 **So, the cast list is on my profile, so in case you feel lost (and in case I also haven't updated in forever) you can just go back there and remember who's who. It's not complete yet, and I'll add more characters as the story develops.  
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 **Also, I'm using the same method I used lately with Roses: one part on 3rd person POV, the other from Aphrodite's POV etc. Aphrodite will be the only first-person in the story because she's the main character of the story (and because she's also damn fun to write ;))**

 **All the palaces mentioned in the story are the actual ones the actual former GRF used to occupy and now they belong to the Greek state.  
**

 **Reviews are welcome :) Enjoy reading!  
**

* * *

 _18 August 2006_

 _ _Athens, Greece__

 _ _ _Two in the morning___

Silence.

She stood a few steps away from the door, her suitcases right behind her. The room was dark. Her husband was sitting on the bed. Right opposite her. He simply sat there, elbows on his knees, a glass of whiskey in his right hand. She couldn't see his face. She didn't know that he, too, was in disbelief. That he wished he could make everything stop. Even time itself.

Too many things were happening on such short notice. He could not take it anymore. None of them did.

He blamed himself for that. It was the least he could do.

He had let her down. Again. No matter the many promises he had made, or the many reassuring words he had uttered. He had given their marriage the final blow and, like glass, it had broken into many little pieces. All landing at his feet. He was staring at them. Admiring his creation...

Yet, he did not feel guilt.

She knew it. She had expected nothing less from him.

They refused to look at each other. Like little children who had broken each other's toys. They were tigers in a cage, walking in circles, unable and unwilling to attack first. If they succumbed, they'd both die.

They felt like the air in the room was suffocating them.

She put on her gloves. He looked at her. She had no tears left to cry and he felt too weak to break things. They had already been through that phase. Now it was all said and done between them.

Almost.

"I guess it's time," he said, breaking the silence.

She replied: "I'll call you when I get there."

"For heaven's sake, stop doing that!"

"I gave you time," she said calmly. "I gave you plenty of chances. Now I need to be alone. To think."

"Won't you at least tell me where you're going?"

She finally burst out: "You know it's all your fault!"

"I told you I'm sorry!"

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that!"

They had done it again. Once more, they had broken the rules of their game. People might hear them shouting. Perhaps some were already eavesdropping behind the closed doors. He came closer to her, yet he wouldn't touch her. She was a volcano about to erupt, the calm before and after the storm. He ought to keep a safe distance. He tried to explain:

"It's... it's just who I am…"

She burst out laughing. He knew that reaction well. It was her shield, the curtain behind which she hid, so that no one would see her crying.

"You could've changed. Or tried to. If you loved me."

"But I do love you!"

Funny, how words lost their meaning after having been repeated for years on end. She would beg for them once, a long time ago, when she was still a young, naive, selfish girl. But now they were but sounds. Mere. Meaningless.

He noticed the tears in her eyes. She lost. She didn't care. They only certified what they both already knew. That her feelings for him were real. Despite the lies, the pain, the anger, and the shame. Despite everything.

Even after all these years.

They could hear the sound of the helicopter as it landed in their garden. That was it. There was no going back now.

She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and fixed her jacket. She went back to her old, practical self: "I'll have my Private Secretary release a statement tomorrow. That I am exhausted and need a holiday. No one will believe that, of course. But one of us has to take the bullet."

He simply nodded.

She wanted to get out of that room as soon as possible. Everything in there, from the bed to the flowers in the vase, reminded her of him. Of everything they had been through. Of the promises they had once made, the memories, the dreams… _Her_ dreams…

Vain as they had turned out to be…

She had expected more from him, even though she knew she was only fooling herself. She did not like him standing motionless in front of her, his hands in his pockets, watching her walk away...

He knew that nothing could stop her from leaving. He had tried to do so in the past. He had even knelt before her and cried like a baby once. How foolish of both of them to believe that the worst was finally behind them...

He kept humiliating himself and she kept coming back to him. Why? She couldn't tell. The heart always works in funny ways. No one could control or understand it.

Oh, how she wished she had left the room already! But first, she had one last thing left to say:

"I'll be out of the picture for as long as it is necessary. Just do me a favour. Remember why I'm gone."

Regal as ever, she walked out of the room. Two seconds later, two footmen stormed in and hastily picked up her luggage. Shortly after the door behind them closed, he was still standing there, a King without his crown, vulnerable to the prying eyes of the world. The helicopter was taking off. If he had stepped closer to the window, he could have seen it.

But he didn't.

He poured himself another glass of whiskey and gulped it down at once. Then he filled it again. And again.

Until he couldn't take it anymore.

On the spur of the moment, he threw the glass against the wall. He watched it shatter, the brown drops of his drink falling to the floor. The leaks would still be there the next morning. Like the tears he refused to cry.

Then it hit him.

She was gone. For good. That had been the final stroke.

He swore that he could still feel her presence in the room. Her perfume was still lingering in the air.

He could hear her voice. The question she had longed to ask:

 _How can you be worlds apart from the person who once meant the world to you?  
_

* * *

 _22 November 2006_

 _John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York  
_

 _Midnight_

Just to set the record straight: I did not want to come back to Greece. Not so soon, anyway. I was actually planning on accepting that offer to become a Bond Girl and thus the first ever real-life Princess - let alone Crown Princess - to make it to Hollywood. Honestly, I'm good with handling guns. A look at some of those tabloid articles about me will prove it. Yes, I am aware that pistols are involved in action movies, but let's be real. Would Bond have been successful if he had kept it in his pants? Please.

Actually thinking about it, I think that is precisely the reason Zeus Almighty asked me to come back. He's such an ol' bore, His Majesty. All about being prim and proper, setting the good example, doing as you're told, don't break the protocol, don't wear revealing outfits, don't think, don't breathe… Coming from a man who's married twice, diddled his father and brothers out of the throne, and should be classified as walking chlamydia. Best part yet: he also has illegitimate children who, for fear of scandal and his wife's wrath, he still refuses to acknowledge, even though everyone knows that they exist. Except for Athena. But she's Zeus Almighty's favourite, so what do you expect? Hera doesn't seem to mind her much either. To tell you the truth, my darling stepmother seems to hate me more than her. It's not my fault, though. I was born to her husband's first wife, Dione, and there's nothing the Queen can do about it (ha!).

Zeus and Dione got married because of me. I was a tiny little nut in my mother's womb back then, but still big enough of a deal to cause trouble - my first scandal ever! Dad had been made the heir by then, although he was the youngest of five, but he would keep the throne on the condition that he was the first to marry. Yes, you read that right. So forgive me if I have my reasons to believe that I was conceived on purpose so that his oh, so bright way towards the throne of Greece would be free of obstacles…

How come Father becameseem King? Because his mother told him so. She had convinced him to convince the Parliament to convince the King to hold a referendum to decide which one of his sons, Hades, Poseidon or Zeus, would become the next monarch. It's easy to see why he won. Hades minds his own business (literally), Poseidon makes people have trust issues and Zeus is basically the Greek version of Bill Clinton. He is charismatic, which makes everyone love him immediately even though he has done terrible, terrible things in his lifetime (no offense to you, Mr. President!). Naturally, he did need his very own Hillary by his side and so he married Dione. Didn't work out because, well, he had an affair with Athena's mother. I have no idea what became of her, I think she died in childbirth. Mother would have none of Father's drooling around and so she took me and left the country, causing the Greek authorities to go after her as if she were a criminal. Back then I was only about a year old and the heir to the heir to the throne. Eventually, she was discovered in Cyprus - also where I was born - and was brought back to Greece. Once she had arrived in Athens, she sat down like a proper adult to have a long talk with my father and his father about my future.

All of that happened while Cronus was still King. It was his idea that Mother should forfeit her titles and simply become known as "the mother of Crown Princess Aphrodite." In return, she received a mansion, secretly paid for by her former in-laws, in Corinth, a town that's a short distance away from Athens, where I spent six months a year growing up. She even remarried four years later, to a millionaire businessman called Tantalus who's also a bit of an asshole, pardon mon French, and they moved to New York where they had three kids - Pelops, Broteas and Niobe. But he treats her well, she does seem happy.

Still, as I said, Zeus did need a wife in order for his dad to abdicate. When I was three, our very own Bill finally found his Hill in Hera. Actually, their story goes rather differently. She was his long-standing mistress who eventually became his wife and Queen. The role suits her. Not only is she the one to actually, secretly, reign over the country but she's also had to stand by her man when everyone knew that he was cheating on her and - better yet - went about impregnating his mistresses. I have no idea about the things they discuss, or how they are still married with Hera's dignity still kept intact. She's very much in love with him, even though he's a polygamist and can't understand women. Ironic, since most of his children are daughters, huh?

Anyway. A few things about Cronus before I go: he became King in 1962, after the death of his father (some say he poisoned him because he could no longer wait). A few years later, in 1967 to be precise, the military Junta happened and the dictator was a man with a funny voice and the most Greek name ever. When we got rid of them in 1974, monarchy was restored overnight and secretly from the Greeks, who would certainly want to get rid of us too. Anyway, Cronus returned from his exile in London and was once again King until Zeus and Hera's wedding in 1983. For the record, I was born in 1980 and yes, I did spend most of my life being known as the Crown Princess of Greece, thanks for asking. Cronus abdicated a week after Zeus and Hera's wedding and no, she wasn't pregnant. Originally, the plan was to hold the wedding and the coronation on the same day, but Zeus tried to make a good name for himself and he demanded change. First, no coronation takes place ever again and they are replaced with an inauguration ceremony in Parliament, thus saving the Greek state millions of wasted money, and second, that the law of absolute primogeniture is passed, pleasing the socialist government we had at the time and ensuring that, in the case he and Hera have sons, I am still the heiress to the throne. And that's the story he constantly tells me to remind me of the sort of example I should set as a monarch...

Better yet, he didn't even want to publicly acknowledge his illegitimate children - again, with the exception of Athena, who's also made a Commander in the Military. Or Colonel or something like that. Bet he could have also made her his heir if he could… Anyway, yeah, the ones who convinced him were actually his older sister, Hestia, and, believe it or not, Hera. But our sanity still remained intact, because Hestia refused to grant them royal titles. The socialist government of the 1980s though it was unfair for Hestia not to be able to ascend the throne on the grounds of her gender and, since she remained unmarried and lived in Greece, they gave her the power to decide who's royal and who's not. But she is the exception to the rule. When - and if - I ascend the throne, things will come back to normal and that right will pass down to me. Boy, won't that be fun!

One last thing: after the Junta was overthrown, King Cronus changed the name of the Royal House we descended from to the more Greek-sounding House of Olympios to keep anti-royalist sentiment from arising. The Royal Family needs to seem close to the people and so he named us after the largest mountain of Greece. But, apparently, he forgot that half the people in this country have _Olympios_ as their last name and, after the then-Prime Minister kindly reminded him of that, he refused to have us known by that name, since we are royalty, alas different than all the rest of the citizens. Long story short, the Government had passed the law legitimizing us as the _House of Olympios,_ yet followed the King's orders not to have us known as such, and thus Grandfather aroused an endless debate over our surname which is still going strong. Still, unofficially, we are known as _Olympios_. Officially, we don't have a last name and neither are we entitled to one. In case we do need it, we go by _Greece_. But the Greeks don't like having the name of their country be used as a name, and so some of us use the Spanish variation - _de Grecia_ \- to keep them from protesting. I may be known as H.R.H. Crown Princess Aphrodite of Greece, but the Constitution has a different opinion. It states that the King and the Queen are the only Greek citizens entitled to noble titles, leaving the rest of us be known simply as "the King's children". I am actually stated in there as _H.R.H. Aphrodite, the King's daughter, Heiress to the Greek Throne._ But you can still call me _Princess_ for the sake of clarity. Bureaucracy is bad. Or so I'm being told.

OK, that's enough with History & Politics 101 for today. Time to move on with our lives and for me to enter that Royal Jet that will take me back to Greece.

* * *

 _23 November 2006_

 _Mon Repo Palace, Corfu_

 _Morning_

Hera had woken up that morning feeling the calmest she had ever felt since her arrival in Corfu three months ago. Originally, she had planned on going to another country, but she didn't have the kind of relative freedom her step-daughter still enjoyed. The Queen of a country could not just pretend to have a reason for going into exile - or a long tour in Aphrodite's case - and let her problems solve themselves. Her duty, the very essence of her role, was the King. Had always been. She had to stay by his side, or at least be in the same country as him. When she had told Hestia she was coming, her sister-in-law did not protest.

She couldn't, of course. As the sister to the King, she was inferior to Hera. Still, alarmed as she was to the news of Hera's arrival, she had decided not to ask any questions. She did not like meddling in other people's private lives, especially those of the King and the Queen. Hera liked her for that. For the next three months, she would have a roof over her head, company, and plenty of time to think of her next steps. Her Private Secretary had said in his announcement that she would be recovering from a sudden and serious surge of pneumonia. An excuse good enough to keep the journalists from asking too many questions.

Nevertheless, some still remained unanswered. What was she going to do? Could she just forgive Zeus and come back to Athens? Somehow, what he had done had seemed like the cherry on top, the fatal blow...

She was brought back to reality by Hestia walking into the dining room. In this Palace - one of the smallest they owned - Hera had requested she had no footmen to do the pointless task of opening the doors for her. "I can use my own hands," she'd say. It was that familiar atmosphere of a home without the feeling of the staffers spying on them that Hera loved about that place.

"I was on the phone to Athens just now," Hestia said, pouring herself and Hera a cup of coffee. "Aphrodite is coming back. Today!"

Hera was surprised to hear that:

"What, so soon? I thought she would spend a few weeks with her mother in New York!"

"There has been a change of plans, apparently. Zeus asked her to be here this weekend. Something about an important announcement he has to make..."

"I wouldn't know anything about that, I'm afraid."

 _Well, that is a bit of a progress_ , Hestia thought. At least now the Queen was talking in full sentences. Since Hera's arrival in August, Hestia had failed to have a decent conversation with her. She couldn't blame her, though. She knew her brother well. But she felt that their duel, or whatever had happened between them this time, had gone on for long enough. They had to end it, for the sake of the Crown.

"It's been three months."

"Don't remind me."

It was an order, but Hestia still had something to say:

"You'll have to go back at some point in your life..."

Hera stared at the remaining coffee in her cup: "I don't think it's the right time yet."

"It will never be unless you make it!"

Hera looked at her, stunned. Hestia realized she had crossed the line, even though royal protocol was not followed among royalty in private, and collected herself. After apologizing, she furthered:

"With all due respect, I have not talked about it for three months, as you had asked me to. But we both know this can't go on forever. You needed time to think, and Zeus has given you plenty of that. People talk, the press is already speculating things. Terrible rumours, frankly, but enough to destroy everything you have both worked so hard for."

"I can't go back there!" Hera exclaimed.

The middle-aged Princess then realized that the King had done something unforgivable. If she could, she would comfort Hera the way a best friend was supposed to do. But she was inferior to the monarch and his consort, and, much as she and Hera got along, there were still limits on the things she could and could not ask. But now, they were talking as one woman to another. Surely that did allow her a bit of trespassing.

"You still love him, don't you?"

"It's not enough anymore."

That was all the reassurance that Hestia needed. Since Hera obviously wished for the conversation to end, Hestia felt like her work was done. Then, Hera added:

"But I will think about it."

Hestia smiled:

"Thank you."

As she took another sip of her coffee, the Princess wondered, yet again, what Hera's world looked like. Since Hestia was the child of the former King and Queen, she knew the lengths the monarch and his consort ought to go to in order to protect the Crown and ensure the future of the Monarchy. Her own parents' marriage was also far from happy, but the world had no idea about it. They still do not know much about Cronus and Rhea's relationship. Yet, her father never did to her mother what Zeus did to his own wife. Everyone knew that he was a philanderer, yet she remained by his side, enduring one humiliation after another. She had to pretend that everything was all right. Like an actress without a script. Still, Hera had to choose between honesty and dignity.

She always chose the latter. Her return to Athens meant that she would have to pull off the same old acting trick once more. She would have to appear happy, vibrant and healthy.

Even worse - she had to look like everything was fine between her and the King.

* * *

 _Athens International Airport  
_

 _Afternoon_

Girls, a piece of advice: if you ever become a Princess, make sure that you enjoy the wild ride that is going to be your life.

But be careful. The job comes with benefits.

One of which is watching the Minister of Interior with a few other dignitaries waiting for the Royal Jet to land so that they can formally welcome you - and your band - back to the homeland. Who's the band, you may ask. My pet dog (a three-year-old Samoyed called Blanche), my two bodyguards, my Private Secretary, and all three of my ladies-in-waiting. Good for me, the jet is big enough to accommodate two (tiny) beds but nonetheless, I must admit that whoever came up with the idea was a genius. Or had very bad experiences with jet lag. Or was a woman who knew how long flights can damage the skin and how tired us women in the spotlight look afterwards. So, here's another piece of advice: sleep. Take it from a nocturnal animal with a huge amount of self-respect. It is good for your health and it works wonders if you want to look fresh. Because let me tell you, the cameras are all out there, all yours for the taking.

You can see them flashing the minute you step out of the aircraft. But luckily, we are at an airport, which means that the journalists can only take pictures of me from a safe distance. They are standing in a specially designed area, holding out their long-distance lenses. But I love landings. They are my favourite part of traveling, because it means I don't have to make any statements! Not until I have been officially welcomed, at least. But that happens only after I have been given some time to get myself settled in, unpack, and put on my slippers. In the meantime, all those interviewers and my Press Secretary can prepare the electric chair and the white lamp. The next day, they can interrogate me all they want. Suffer as I might, I won't reveal what the French president's favourite delicacy is. That's state secret.

On a side note, not to sound like a snob, but... I was expecting a grander reception. I had been told that the tour had been widely publicized in Greece and I was glad that I was exiled for nothing. For six months, I have been welcomed at airports by heads of state and government, red carpets, and hoards of dignitaries and journalists from the world's most famous news agencies. Some even had to stand in the pouring rain to see me disembark. I guess this is what happens when you spend too much time with those kinds of people. It does go to your head eventually. Blame the exhaustion.

Thankfully, I don't have to go through passport control and all that jazz. This has already been arranged via the Ministry of Interior. Well, if you ask me, I think it's a little far-fetched. I mean everyone knows who I am - especially in this country. Oh, well. By the way, here's a fun fact: I am stated in the passport as _H.R.H. Crown Princess Aphrodite de Grecia_ , thanks to that 1994 law that instructs all Greek citizens to write their full names in their official documents. And we need to be the first to set a good example. I know, I can't believe it either. I don't know how this whole name fits in such a tiny space either. Frankly, I don't care either. After that box has been ticked too, we move on to the _real_ VIP treatment.

Holding Blanche by her leash, I decide to do something unscripted. Instead of walking straight to the black Mercedes Benz right opposite me, I approach the journalists. Their cameras are flashing even more now and some are shoved straight at my face but I don't mind. I don't know why the Palace persisted I should be quiet and just go straight to the car like some sort of refuge. Much as I didn't like to be back just yet, I'm still the Crown Princess for heaven's sake!

"I am very, very glad to be back in my home country after six months abroad and I am looking forward to coming back to my normal schedule of engagements. Thank you!"

Short, sweet, and simple, don't you think? My bodyguards and aides look a bit tense. They had been warning me to stick to the Palace rule book, but oh well. They'll manage. They've certainly survived me for long enough. I make my way to the Mercedes Benz (paid for exclusively by the Greek state and adorning the Greek royal flag, lest I forget my own home country or my status). A similarly black Range Rover SUV waits right behind it, along with four policemen on their motorcycles.

Ah! The lovely feeling of being back home!

I know the roll. The bodyguard opens the door for me, the chauffeur is already in the car, the former sits next to the latter, I sit behind my security detail, and we leave at once. The rest of the band follow suit, with being encircled by the police. It is enough to drive you claustrophobic if you let it. I am going to spend my time either looking outside the window or falling asleep - whichever sounds more tempting. It's the best I can do, being cursed in the same car with the two least talkative people on this planet. My driver only speaks to let me know we are making excellent time and I don't like my bodyguard. I think he's spying on me. Zeus Almighty hired him with the instructions that he kept a close eye on me at all times and that he made sure I behaved myself at all times. Simply put, Father pays my stalker. But! I took my revenge on His Majesty and now I wish he never finds out...

I won't tell you what I had done. Hera knows part and parcel of it and that is more than enough for me. She was the one that came up with the idea for a tour, say I suddenly took an interest in the Greek diaspora and wished to see how the Greek communities worldwide were doing. The orders were clear: attract foreign capital and businesses to Greece, make the Royal Family known worldwide, promote my home country in all its glory... Things like that.

Long story short, the officials at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs were pulling their hair out (what was left of it, rather) the minute they were told. Such a lengthy tour, especially with the tight schedule Hera had suggested and which I had presented to the Minister instead, normally took at least two years of planning in advance. But the Athens Olympics two years ago had turned me into a much-loved figure worldwide apparently, which worked in our advantage. Our foreign allies made our lives easier and agreed to help the Ministry organize everything down to the slightest detail before my departure. The whole tour took about three months to plan, there were constant last-minute changes in my schedule during the tour, Greek organization has not improved, and I will be furious if we do not make it to the Guinness World Records for the speediest planning of a royal tour of all times. Needless to say, half of the people who helped organize it are bald now. Whoops!

I had better keep the budget for the new wardrobe I had issued a secret then. Men cannot really get the fuss over day outfits, coats, shoes, evening gowns, jewels, and other accessories. But in my defense, they had told me to look as glamorous as I could get. Apparently, I am quite famous for that as well.

Oh, dear, I really need a drink. I am terrible at being jet-lagged, tired, _and_ sober at the same time.

Anyway, I'll keep you entertained and myself awoke by telling you that, if you take the Attica Tollway from Athens International Airport to the city centre, it will take about twenty minutes. Thanks, Olympics 2004! Not only did we upgrade the city by a mile, but we also got a new airport, making Athens oddly European for the capital of a Balkan country… Take a look at the block of flats on each side of the Tollway and you could swear you are in a third-world country instead. To our defense, we ain't exactly London or Paris - and never will be - but Athens has the unique talent to combine the old with the new, the pretty with the ugly, the grey with the colourful, which is what makes it such a wonderful, unique place.

Sorry. I sound like a tourist guide. It did work during those state banquets and unofficial lunches I'd have with world leaders when we'd run out of really exciting things to discuss. Most of them could talk for hours about their holidays in Greece and how much they missed life before becoming world leaders, I have no idea what to do with the information they had given me, but I remained dutiful to my role and kept promoting my country. I don't care that there were no journalists around. It still counts.

Oh, and before you ask! No, I don't have a driver's license. Zeus Almighty says I don't really need it since I'm being driven around everywhere. Personally, I think he worries I'll get too caught up on road trips and my new-found sense of independence that I'll forget all about my royal duties. Well, thank you, Father. I trust you, too.

As if that weren't enough, he is paying the fees for me to stay in the Royal Suite of the country's oldest and most luxurious hotel. It was a gift for my twenty-first birthday. Just don't tell the taxpayers. Father asked me what I had wanted and I replied, "My freedom". I actually meant that I needed more space to breathe, a less tight schedule and far less daily lectures on etiquette (I had perfected the art of the savoir-vivre by the time I was fifteen...). I ended up with the most lavish Royal Suite in Europe instead.

Lesson of the day: monarchs and parenthood do not mix.

But the hotel is located in Syntagma Square, the central square of Athens, so I guess that makes up for it. Forget about the Acropolis, this is actually the best part of Athens. You have the entire city at your feet - the country's largest shopping street just two minutes away, it takes up to ten minutes by car to reach the best kind of nightlife Athens has to offer, and you have the Hellenic Parliament within walking distance from the New Royal Palace. Somehow, I don't know why that is important. That coral neoclassical building you see first thing in the news when Greece is mentioned? That's the Parliament. It used to be the Old Royal Palace until 1913, when the Crown Princely Palace turned into the New Royal Palace. Or just Royal Palace for short.

I need to stop doing all that promoting...

Anyway, once we get there, my likable bodyguard (let's call him Doug because he looks like one), persists that I enter via the back door for "security reasons". He thinks we're still on tour, where security around me had to be tight, because I was a guest-of-honour. There's no need to treat me as the representative of Greece abroad anymore. I needed Doug then, because he has a black belt in karate. At least that's what he tells people. Weren't he so stuck up in rules and guidelines, I may have found him attractive…

The chauffeur gives the decisive vote: I am the boss here. Putting on my sunglasses like a random wannabe Hollywood diva, I get off the car, and off I go. Needless to say, this hotel looks more like a palace than the actual Royal Palace a short distance away… And with a much better food too…

The two receptionists recognize me, so they rush to hand the keys of the Royal Suite to my Secretary immediately. Room 516. All the employees here know who I am and have been instructed never to reveal to anyone - not even to their own families - that I have been living in there for the past five years. Part of the deal is that they keep anyone carrying a camera or looking remotely suspicious from entering the hotel. As if that weren't enough, Zeus Almighty hired two extra guards to stand outside my suite at nighttime. Stupid me, I was lured into this agreement because had promised me I'd stay here incognito... Still, the board of directors bent the rules and allowed me to keep Blanche. Darling little creature, she never barks! My maids live with me too, there's plenty of space for them to have their own beds.

My ever-faithful band follows me all the way to the Suite, in case I needed any further assistance, but I dismiss them for the day. All I want right now is a martini, a decent meal, and all the peace and quiet I could get to prepare for my audience with Mr. Big Boss and my press conference first thing tomorrow.

The minute I enter the room, I let Blanche off the leash and remove my high heels and coat. My two maids, who were already waiting for me, rush to tidy up my mess.

"Fix me a martini and draw me a bath, please. I'll stay home tonight."

One of them rushed to call one of the hotel's bars and the other to the bathroom. They know the drill: comfy clothes, room service, and a rom-com. Until they get everything ready, I have plenty of time to close my eyes and think of Grandmother Rhea's letter again. What was that about? She had sent it a few days ago from Crete, where she has been living for as long as I can remember, writing that I ought to come back to Greece because of an important announcement that would change everyone's lives forever…

Did Hera finally decide to divorce Zeus? Is he changing the law again and making Athena his heiress? Is anyone pregnant? Don't look at me, I'm smarter than that.

But then my private mobile phone rings. I have three of them. One for my family (it's the one that rings), the other for my staff, and the other for my security details. My tracking devices. In case I try to escape.

It's Mother. Oh, snap! I was supposed to call her the minute I was in the car to let her know I had arrived safely.

Well, then. I guess the House of Olympios can wait. They survived perfectly without me all that time, surely a day more wouldn't hurt.

Besides, if i had to choose between Niobe's antics and Zeus Almighty's glorious ideas, I pick my sister. By far.

* * *

 _Royal Palace, Athens_

 _Evening_

The two men, one in his mid-eighties, the other in his fifties, sat opposite each other in the King's Office. Both were familiar with this particular room, as well as they were with the job that came with it. Life works in weird ways. Two decades ago, Zeus was the one to sit in front of the mahogany desk, on that very chair his father was occupying now. Was Cronus jealous? He sure was. He hated this room. It was where he had signed his abdication papers and officially reduced himself to a failure for the world to see. Yes, it was a competition he had lost and he would never come to terms with it.

For an outsider, it seemed like a common meeting between King and subject. Or a very important discussion between father and son. Whichever interpretation one chose to give to the picture, both were right. But looking closely, you could see a war in action. A business deal was to be sealed and both wanted to take the hindmost.

The elderly man spoke first:

"I see that Hera has not come back yet. Is her illness really that... serious... that she had to go missing for three months?

Zeus hated the way Cronus uttered his wife's name. As if she were worthless. Years ago, he had called her "a gold digger" and "a whore" that could never become his son's rightful queen. Well, bad for him, things had changed now.

" _The Queen_ isn't missing."

"She is not here. Do you know where she is?"

There was nothing worse Zeus could experience than his father pushing him against a wall. He no longer did it physically, as he had figured long ago that words made for a much better weapon. Zeus had to gain the upper hand again:

"I did not call you here today to have this kind of conversation!"

"Ah!" Cronus exclaimed. "Once again messed up, I see! Who's the lucky home-wrecker this time?"

Fine. If Cronus wanted to play the game the dirty way, Zeus had just the right card to deal:

"What about Mother, Father?"

Cronus stiffened at him being called anything other than 'Your Majesty,' even by his own child. Zeus had won this round. As the winner, he went on:

"She is still in Crete and from what I hear, you are not even trying to get her back."

The older king tried to make one last move:

"You did not handle things well, either. Sooner or later, the world will find out the truth about your wife's absence. Your reputation is already in tatters. You certainly don't want another scandal bringing you one step closer to being forced to give up the throne."

"There is someone to inherit it."

Unknowingly, Zeus had just made the perfect pass Cronus had been waiting for:

"And that… someone… the black sheep, the useless little socialite, where is she? Still in exile, too?"

"Within walking distance, as we speak. Safely in her hotel room, as she wished. She deserves it. In case you do not read the newspapers, here!"

Zeus grabbed the pile of the day's press resting on the right side of his desk and he shoved it in front of his father. Cronus read the headlines, one after another. Every single one of them, conservative or socialist, right-wing or left, praised Aphrodite for the success of her six-month-tour in Europe, Canada, and the U.S.

Cronus nodded, giving his son his satisfaction that he had won yet another round.

"Turns out, she is not as useless as I thought!" the older king said. "Hopefully she will seem as willing to do us one more favour."

"What I have in mind is far from that."

"What _we_ have in mind is the only way to ensure stability and certainty."

How typical of his father, to take credit for everything!

"I dare say," Cronus added, "this is the only good idea you've had in your life. Brings about protection. If one scandal breaks out, others will follow. I think we all know who will be the first to go."

"I am to tell her the news. In private."

"And spare the world from witnessing a quality lesson in self-control? Why, that's cruel!"

"I cannot make the announcement without her consent!"

"You got married without our consent! Why the need for modesty now?"

"The word is common sense. And both Hera and Dione were approved by the Parliament. You just had to sign a piece of paper and keep quiet. Now, I have been King for twenty-three years and Aphrodite is the Crown Princess. Like it or not, she will find out from me, right here, in this very room!"

Zeus saw the look in Cronus' eyes. He knew he had angered him so much, it would only take one final straw to beat him.

"Now may I ask, Father, why you asked for an audience?"

He noticed Cronus clenching his fist and compressing his lips. The older man did not move. Instead, he kept staring at his son, knowing very well that he was humiliated once more, again in this very same room.

It did not surprise Zeus that his father stormed out of the room extremely fast for a man of his age. Without bowing to his King, no less. Once he was left on his own, Zeus felt he could breathe again. Opening the bottom drawer of his desk, he pulled out the bottle of brandy and a crystal glass. Pouring himself some, he also reached for a cigar in the case near the bottle in the drawer. He would smoke it by the window, watching the night fall over the city. The view of the busy street always helped him think.

He knew, of course, that Cronus would interfere. His father still hadn't come down from his high horse. Doing so would mean that he had accepted being less important than his youngest child. _How ridiculous_ , Zeus thought. They were alike, much as he hated to admit it. They were both ambitious, selfish, hideous men gambling away members of their family, feelings, lives… All for the sake of something intangible, with a great view. The top. Money. Power. As much as they could get. They didn't care of the sacrifices they'd have to make, as long as they came out unharmed.

Hera took the bullet willingly. Aphrodite would be more of a handful.

It was no longer poker that they were playing.

It was Russian roulette.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey guys! Thanks to everyone for the feedback on the first chapter, I'm glad you liked it :) I'm sorry for the belated update, but sometimes real-life and uni work get the best of me. Hope you enjoy the second chapter! Just a friendly reminder of how the story goes: the 1st person POV narrative is Aphrodite, everyone else's storyline is written in 3rd person POV.**

 **ETA: So I edited/rewrote (a mix of both really) the chapter because I had really hated it the first time around but it's only now that I summoned up the courage to take a look at my cringe-worthy writing and try to change it. I just added a few more details on royal life, not much of a big deal, and it sounds a bit like a filler chapter, but those are important too. I feel like I have to show the way those people live, because their lifestyles influence their decisions and their motives.**

 **OK I shut up now.**

* * *

 _24 November 2006_

 _GB Hotel, Athens, morning_

Hello! We're in the Royal Suite, and all three people in here are getting me ready for my sort of press conference at the Royal Palace. Right behind me is my hair stylist, and way behind him, by my bed, is my makeup artist, taking a very careful look at my outfit for the day and trying to decide which colours fit with it and which brushes she has to use. We're all singing and dancing to the songs on the radio - whoever is hosting that show is very happy that November is almost over - and Blanche is running up and down, but you don't have to pay any attention to her, she just smells the makeup. So, the Big Boss asked me, very kindly I must confess, to show up for yet another happy hour, make a witty remark or two (I'm famous for those apparently), answer to some journalists' questions and then get back to moving on with my life. Just another day in the life. Nothing to worry about.

So, the time is 10:45, I have been awake for exactly three hours and "Operation Diva" has been underway for the past fifteen minutes. That's what you get for a Private Secretary that has studied in Germany. Either you stick to the schedule minute by minute, or you just don't go anywhere and get nothing done. Which I'd be very happy to do, but I have an entire bunch of people in my team with a completely different opinion. Whatever. And if you want to see how perfectly planned out my morning routine is, here: I wake up at 7:45 to find all the morning light falling into my room and smelling the much-needed morning hot chocolate, the two handmade mini almond and dark chocolate croissants and a bowl of Special K with fresh, seasonal fruits. For the next two hours, I read the papers and listen to music. At 9:30, my maid (the friendly one of the two) draws me a bubble bath while the other makes my bed. At 10:30, I have my hair and makeup done and by 11:30, I am dolled up, dressed, and ready to go, but not before I have a mint martini pick-me-up (no olives, please) served with many different French cheeses, delivered to my room straight from the hotel's main bar (out of the four it has in total). Definitely one of the best - if not _the_ best - bars I have ever been to. I have been living in a hotel for the past five years, I have to make the best out of it before Zeus Almighty runs out of money. And, by the way, here's a friendly piece of advice: never, ever, drink alcohol during the day on an empty stomach. It's bad for your skin and it makes you look tipsy.

As you can guess, this morning, as usual, I had my breakfast delivered in my room on a silver tray. Good for me, I have a maid to wake me up so that I can eat it. And for the next two hours, I ate, listened to an album from one of my many favourite artists on repeat (today's soundtrack is _Spiceworld_. My maid knows me well. Nothing better than listening to _Spice Up Your Life_ first thing in the morning) and read the newspapers. King's orders. All of them. And Greece has one awful lot of newspapers for a small country. All either political (varying from royalist/conservative to communist) or ridiculous (tabloids and those far-right papers full of conspiracy theories that no one believes). I just go straight to the "serious" lot, read the politics and culture session, and then I just leave them scattered all over the room. And – surprise surprise – my getting off the Royal Jet was on all the front pages. Geez, I look awful. Blanche's hair is more photogenic than mine.

Here's the short summary: my tour was praised, universally, as a big success. Unless you're an anti-royalist, in which case I did nothing but waste taxpayers' money. But they normally accuse the Monarchy for being the work of the devil, calling it "anachronistic", and stating it has no place in a modern society. All the less so in the country that has founded Democracy. But something that both the pro- and anti-monarchist sides can agree on is that the King's approval ratings have reached a new low while mine have gone off the roof. Either they missed me a lot, or Zeus Almighty has had another of those "adventures" of his, yet no one mentioned a thing. But! At least he did what a King ought to do – bring the people together. Unite them. All for one, and one for all. He will survive it. He has stood me as his heiress for twenty-three years, for heaven's sake. Some of the royalist ones even had the brilliant idea that the King ought to have gone on that tour instead, and leave me as his vicereine. That's Queen Regent or the Vice President of a country acting as the President if you have spent your entire lives in a Republic. The way they put it, it'd be the best education I could have for my future role. If only they knew…

My hairdresser - a big bald guy with a black blouse and blue jeans - is straightening my hair and I already look less like the zombie I resembled when I woke up this morning. My makeup artist is busier trying to keep her rouge out of Blanche's reach and all the while, all three of us comment on my return back on home ground making headlines. Now, before you accuse me for overindulging myself, let me just tell you that normally, my maid does my hair and I my own makeup, but there will be television crews and newspaper photographers there, and I have clear instructions to look like I am about to meet the U.S. President. Much ado about nothing, if you ask me. I once went for a run without makeup on (I had thought I'd go unnoticed) and Vogue Greece praised me for my "natural" makeup. Thanks. I'd like to thank both my parents for the genes and running at full speed for the rosy cheeks.

I already know there's much anticipation about what I am going to wear or how I'm going to have my hair styled, so here's the exclusive look: hair down, very loose curls, parted on the side with bobby pins holding the hair at the right side of my hair in place to create the illusion that I got a fringe. The day today just begs for that kind of hairstyle. Plus, they fit well with the small, square diamond earrings and my outfit: a white V-neck shirt with a high collar, black overcoat with white and silver embroidery all over its bottom half and sleeves, a matching black pair of skinny trousers and high-heeled "sports boots". A custom-made Chanel original, which I had worn in Paris, on my private audience with the French President two months ago, right before I left for the U.S. And here's a fashion advice: never, ever, ever wear the same outfit twice on the same month and always have it cleaned the day before. And, when you are in a foreign country, use fashion diplomatically. Wear their local designers for your day outfits and promote the Greek designers via your gowns. Easy. Harmless diplomatic skill. They'll love you. And the more they whine, the more they like you. Like Zeus Almighty's aides had done before accusing me of looking like a rock star. Pardon me, but that's a compliment as far as I'm concerned. Besides, I had once threatened Father Dearest that this is what I'd do in case the Monarchy was abolished. I doubt he has ever forgiven me for even thinking such a thing. Both things. I don't know, I never get anywhere with him.

Martini hour had to be rushed by an hour, because the journalists are busier than me, and so here my friend maid comes, holding the tray with my drink and a platter which stinks of French cheese: Comté, Camembert de Normandie, Brie, Coulommiers, Livarot and Reblochon. All imported directly from France. I know, I am living the life.

I had asked for the martini to be a bit stronger today (a little bit more gin never hurt anybody) because I had to summon plenty of courage to face The Big Boss himself for a private audience right after the interview. I don't worry about making a public speech. Most of my relatives get butterflies in their stomachs and get a bit of a stage fright, even though it's part of our routine, but I enjoy it. It's good fun. My grooming as the future head of state included an acting coach, to teach me how to make a speech and she would always say that "stage presence is a natural trait". Coming from a woman who could just sit in the corner of an empty room and just make you think like the place was packed just by her standing there and saying nothing. Honestly, I've witnessed it myself! Imagine the French-Spanish mix of Ethel Merman and Liza Minnelli. I should ask her one day if she had ever acted on Broadway... And in case you're wondering, she ended up in Greece because she had come for a holiday once and just fell in love with the place. Just so.

It's her who got me addicted to the Spice Girls in the first place. I was fifteen, getting accustomed to life as a Crown Princess, having awful skin, and I needed a pick-me-up equal to the mini martini, but harmless for an adolescent. I still meet with her occasionally and she always opens with the following line: "You are set to become the first ever Queen Regnant of Greece. You have _got_ to be a _vamp_."

Because, otherwise, where's the fun?

* * *

 _Mon Repo Palace, Corfu_

Hera was torn about her decision. On the one hand, she ought to come back; she had to do her duty, put on a brave face, silently endure the humiliation and keep the world from finding out about the latest of her husband's "mischiefs". As she had always done. She had had enough. She could no longer stand putting on a brave face when the whole country knew the truth. But on the other, a voice inside her begged her to stay. Away from the golden cage of the Royal Palace and a philandering spouse. To finally be free.

But could she really be happy without him?

She still cared for him. Despite all the hard times he had given her, all the days he had made her doubt herself and the rains of tears she had shed for him. The past three months had been a blur. She would watch the news intently, trying to catch a glimpse or a mention of him, to see if he was all right. To see the look in his eyes telling her he missed her, that he couldn't function without her. She had left Eris in her shoes for as long as she was gone. The news her eldest daughter would give were worryingly reassuring: "He's doing fine. He spends his days working. He has not left the Palace unless it's for engagements." Eris would go everywhere with him, standing in for the Queen, being her mother's eyes and ears.

 _After all_ , Hera thought, _adultery put aside, we have been happy_. For the past twenty-three years, they had been a team. A pair. She had made a promise to him on their wedding day, that she would remain by his side through thick and thin. Three years later, she would make a statement that would be printed in all of the newspapers: "I cannot leave the King without a Queen". The journalist had asked her if she had been considering divorcing him, like Dione had done. It had been the first time he had cheated on her and it had become known. She was a different person now. Older and wiser. But she would stick to her word.

Nevertheless, she wouldn't forgive him. This time, he had crossed the line. Hestia was right. She had known what she had been about to get into when she had agreed to marry him, after having already turned him down twice. Looking back, perhaps it would have been better if she had turned him down a third one too. Yet his persistence had fascinated her. The way she had interpreted it, he had loved her deeply. He could have chosen someone else, someone more suitable for the role of the Queen, but he had chosen her. What better proof that he had truly fallen for her?

But then reality sank in. She had seen all these other women come and go, some leaving their mark by having his children. The living proof of his infidelity. Even then, she had managed to fix the broken glass by pushing him to acknowledge the children. He ought to pay for their upbringing, as a lifelong punishment for his mistakes. And then she'd go after those women, making sure they were out of the picture for good. He had promise her he would never contact those children, but it had not kept her from crying herself to sleep. Still, when she would wake up the next morning, she had felt the reassurance that she had protected the integrity of the Royal Family; that she had done her duty.

No, she would not divorce him. But she would not take him back either. She would keep her bedroom door locked for him so that he would not sneak in at night as he would always do. She would go on being his wife, his strength and stay, but as soon as the doors would close and they would be left alone, they would be two strangers living in the same house; sharing a name, a responsibility, a family...

She had made the necessary phone calls the previous evening. She had called her daughters herself, to tell them that she would return to Athens. They had sounded happy and relieved to hear it. Same with Hestia. Her Private Secretary had informed the Royal Hellenic Army. They would send a helicopter at noon to take her back to Athens. Given that the King was, constitutionally, the Commander-in-Chief, she had the right to request they transported her when she was travelling incognito or for safety. She had asked them not to inform the King and, not without much protest, they eventually gave in. They would follow the plan set out for the Royal Family to flee the country in case of emergency, only reversed. She could have also summoned up the Royal Yacht, but, since it was their private property, she would increase the risk of Zeus finding out about her return. Flying commercial had been out of the question. The other passengers would have recognized her and she had neither the time nor the mood to deal with publicity. Just a statement, that she had fully recovered and that she would spend the next few weeks setting out her schedule would do for now.

Now she was in the Palace Gardens, wearing a silk headscarf and sunglasses, watching the military helicopter land a few meters away. The two soldiers who had been summoned as security detail for the trip carried her luggage and helped her inside the aircraft. She knew what to do next. After all, it had not been the first time she had traveled in such an unusual way.

Once inside the aircraft, she sat back on her seat, removed her scarf and sunglasses, fastened her seat belt and put on the earphones. She turned to look outside the window. As soon as she would take off, Mon Repo would go back to being yet another of the King and Queen's holiday retreats. And Hestia would go on living there, doing engagements in the Ionian and the nearby cities of the mainland, content to be away from the hectic life of the Royal Court.

As for Hera, she would return to her queenly duties. Which included her fixing what her husband had broken. Again.

* * *

 _Royal Palace, Athens_

 _Early Afternoon_

Thank goodness that press conference is over... Has there been a legislation put to place stating they ought to increase the intensity of the flashlights or something? It's been five minutes since the interview ended and I can still see flashing little black spots in front of my eyes from all those lights.

It went well, by the way, better than I had hoped. I always enjoy press conferences because you get journalists from all sorts of media - lifestyle magazines, newspapers, the news, some gossip shows that just sneaked in there and no one - not even those reporters - know why... Their questions varied from "Why did you feel the need to go on such a long tour" and "You met with all the heads of state and government in the countries you have visited. What does that mean for Greece and its relationship with other countries?" to "How many designers have you worn in total?" and "Which of the countries you have visited would you like to come back to?"

In every single one of those questions (and the ten thousand more I was also asked), I had to find an answer that was diplomatic but not political, enough for them to find me likable but not accusing me for being like my father, because I am supposed to be the bearer of hope, the breath of fresh air... I knew what they would ask me, of course, I have been preparing for that day for three weeks. I had received all forty pages filled with questions on both sides and I had plenty of time to come up with an original answer for all of them. The Press Office also had a copy of those and, a week after receiving the questions, I received the scripted answers. All of the questions that had to do with foreign affairs were already answered for me by the Press Secretaries and the PR-advisers. Maybe even the Minster of Foreign Affairs with the Prime Minister's approval. I was free to answer to all the other questions the way I wanted. I had asked the Press Office to allow me a relative freedom when it came to the questions that aren't considered "politically dangerous", or else I would throw at least one curse word every single time I was asked to speak. Friendly reminder I am Zeus' daughter and Tantalus' step-daughter. Mother really has a thing for potty-mouthed men and that's how I ended up having quite the vocabulary in that respect. So, the Press Office thought I would swear for real and so they allowed me to say what's in my mind from time to time. As long as I uttered no curse words and did not make more than three jokes during interviews. Screw you.

Great, I feel much better now.

And just to change the subject, here comes the one rant I had hoped I would do but no one gave me the change to say. I don't even know what kind of question fits with it, I have had it in my head since I had woken up, apparently:

Us women are so lucky to be able to use fashion as a weapon, aren't we? Think about it. Everything that we wear is a statement. Women first cut their hair short and wore trousers to let men know they would no longer play the porcelain dolls in their impractical floor-length, corseted gowns and huge hats. They had fought for the right to have their voices heard and they created outfits to mirror their stance that they wouldn't stop at that. And, damn, didn't they just look gorgeous doing so?

To all the teenage girls out there, remember this: trends are nice. But wearing what mirrors your personality and makes you feel comfortable is the main principle of fashion. Add experimenting with your looks (be it accessories, hair, or makeup) in the mix, and self-confidence is the reward you get. Take it from someone who's been on the best-dressed list of internationally acclaimed lifestyle magazines since her own, acne-stricken puberty.

Why do I say all of this? I'm meant to meet with the very personification of patriarchy himself. Pretty sure he's also wearing a tie in case someone doubted it… Yes, that's the manly way to make a statement. Wear a tie and you're a traditional paterfamilias. Refuse to wear one and you're a rebellious modernist with a high salary. If I was given a short break between the press conference and the audience, I would have rushed back to the hotel (remember, I'm being driven around everywhere...) and changed into the purple and yellow floral knee-length satin dress I had worn when I had told the Prime Minister he should spend some more "quality time" with his wife. Or mistress. Whatever worked. Put Zeus Almighty in trouble for three weeks and nearly caused an early general election. And that's when I found out politicians have no sense of humor.

I mean it's the first time the King and I (no pun intended) will be in the same room after six months. I don't care that the dress is suitable for the summer months. It has exceeded the limit of two months in which it has to remain unworn. Besides, what better than a happy memory for a father/daughter reunion scene?

Anyway. Back on topic. Meeting monarchs is overrated. All you have to do is simply wait in a coral salon filled with hundred-year-old paintings, furniture, and other memorabilia until you're summoned up by one of the King's Private Secretaries (there's three of them), and then you walk into a room, curtsy, then talk, facing him with an enormous two hundred-year-old mahogany desk between you.

Currently, I am going through the salon phase. In this very room, people have come and gone, Prime Minsters have waited eagerly for an audience, and I broke the window when I threw a ball at it. I was five back then, I could get away with everything. But pretty sure Father is still punishing me for it. For why would he encourage the prerogative of having me wait for at least twenty minutes until I'm allowed to see him if he isn't? He says it is to show that he treats me like the rest of his children. Well, first, thanks for the effort, Dad, and second, I belong to the bunch of the kids you know of. And whom you've met.

Finally, after having spent most of the time observing my nails, Secretary #2 (the whiny one) shows up from inside the King's Office to let me in. She looks pleased that I was not late in those things for once. Don't blame me, blame the long waiting hours.

Surprise, surprise, Patriarchy Personified was indeed wearing a tie. He was also holding a glass with a drink. Brandy. Oh boy, Hera has been missing for too long. He never drinks around midday, especially not brandy or whiskey. He was standing by the window when I walked in, curtsied like any other, well-behaved daughter should do, and waited for him to sit down so that I could follow his lead. As I took my place by his desk, he sat on his grand leather chair right opposite me. He didn't even ask me how I was doing or if I had gotten enough sleep but instead got straight down to business.

"I'm certainly glad to see you. I gather you had a nice journey back home?"

"Yes, it was very pleasant."

I was expecting a lecture on the reason I had visited all these countries and the high prize he would have to pay for the fuel of the Royal Jet any second now. We're not exactly poor - we're actually wealthy compared to most of the Greeks out there - but we are not awfully rich either. Simply put, we are amongst the poorest royal families. Sometimes, money gets tight for us too.

"Tell me about your tour," he furthered. "I want to hear all about it, but not what I have read in the papers or what you've told the journalists."

And just like that, I realized how I had run out of original answers. Though the monologue began. I described everything, from the important people I had met and what they had said about me (special thanks to my aides for informing me on what was going on behind my back), the charitable visits I had done, why I had decided to support those causes, the dinners I had been invited to - even by Greek millionaires living abroad, the greatest supporters of the monarchy - and the official banquets held in my honor. Rather, the "juicy" stuff the reporters had forgotten to mention or to care about.

The Big Boss rubbed his chin twice and then brought his fingers to his mustache. And that's how you knew he listened intently. Funny, with his navy blue suit, crimson tie, and well-taken care of mustache, he looked like he had come straight out of the 1950s. I have no idea why, but this realization made me feel rather uncomfortable. Anyway, as soon as my high-quality journalistic analysis ended, he took another sip of his brandy:

"Well, I can say I am very proud of you, Aphrodite. You have finally understood the importance of your future role. The paramount of your influence, so to speak. Well done, indeed!"

I was smiling, beaming with pride actually, but I was also worried. He wasn't used to complimenting me that extensively. Hera has to come back soon, before Zeus ends up either an alcoholic or the supportive father my child self kept dreaming of.

I admit, I rather hesitated uttering the next words because I was afraid of his reaction. But, curiosity killed the cat:

"May I ask something, Father?"

He nodded. Here goes:

"How's the Queen?"

He stiffened. Sat up straight, gave me the killer look. Yup, I will survive.

"She is taking a few months' rest."

"What did you do?"

Don't blame me, I could no longer help myself. I was just as curious as you are.

"Let me remain the one asking all the questions here, shall we?"

Oh, come on now, Dad, just as things were getting interesting! I had to admit defeat.

"So," he furthered. "I have asked you here today, because I have something else to tell you. Something that will change your life forever."

I'm moving out. He can no longer afford the hotel. I'm moving back into the Royal Palace. That's only the introduction so that things go smoothly.

"I have also consulted the Government on that, and they agree."

Wait, what? The Government knew I was the occupant of the Royal Suite? I thought I was living there incognito?

"I want you to listen to me carefully."

Your Honor, whatever happens next, I'm innocent.

* * *

Hera's journey to Athens had been uneventful so far. Contrary to the night she left, the helicopter didn't land at the Royal Palace but at the military airport at Elefsina, a suburb located some half an hour away from the centre of Athens. Α luxury SUV with blackout windows was waiting for her. As she had requested, it did not have the Royal Standard flag or the Coat of Arms drawn to its passenger doors. Her own bodyguards were already waiting at a second luxury car, which also did not display any regalia.

She felt ridiculous to be arriving back home like a fugitive. She could have chosen to make an entrance like a Queen should, without the need for secrecy, but she wished to arrive without being seen. Everyone would have been busier with Aphrodite's return and, for once, Hera felt thankful to have her step-daughter draw all eyes on her. As for the soldiers, the pilot and the bodyguards, they would not and did not ask any questions. They had all sworn loyalty to the Crown and she was married to its representative. After all, even the Royal Family was allowed to have secrets.

The road back to the Palace was harder than she had initially thought. She had already regretted leaving Corfu, but there was no going back now. She had already made up her mind.

Besides, one has to take responsibility for their own actions.

In her marriage, she had been the one decent enough to do so.

True to her word of secrecy to the end, she had asked to enter the Palace through the back door. She could come back to acting like the Queen of the country once her dresser had helped her into a different outfit and she was given a much-needed glass of red wine.

The SUV stopped outside the gates to the Royal Palace Gardens. It had been the part Hera had been dreading the most. Over the past two decades, numerous block of flats had been built behind the Royal Palace, with just a narrow street separating the tall walls of the Gardens and the homes of many other people who just went about their daily business. Suddenly, she felt as if the eyes of the world were on her again, but the feeling lasted for as long as it took for the Guard to open the gates and for the two cars to enter. The Gardens had six different gates and each was equipped with its own narrow street - covered with marble - and was surrounded by different kinds of trees. Hera's driver followed the one surrounded with pine trees. She had seen them from the front window and opened her window just enough for her to be able to smell them while still going unnoticed. They welcomed her, standing tall and regal. _A good reminder_ , Hera thought. All of the streets leading to the exterior Grand Staircase, which was also made of marble.

As soon as the car was parked, Hera readjusted her head scarf and sun glasses. Her security detail helped her out of the vehicle before proceeding to take her luggage out of the second car. Hera looked at the garden. Most of the flowers had lost their leaves. Of course. It was almost winter. Yet what drew her attention the most were the many TV crew vans which were parked all around the garden. What had been the matter? Two footmen rushed next to her to pick up her suitcases, and she turned to look at the butler, a man in his early sixties waiting for her with a smile on his face.

Drawing a deep breath, Hera approached him.

"Good morning, Mr. Tsakiris," she said.

He bowed: "Good morning, Your Majesty. Welcome home."

Hera smiled: "Thank you."

Mr. Tsakiris then indicated to the footmen to take the luggage inside with a single hand motion. The footmen would enter through the staff door and they had to have left everything in the Queen's bed chambers before she would get there. Had they been working for another affluent family, they would gossip with their colleagues at lunch time - whether their mistress looked healthy, whether she had worn bright colours, whether she looked sad... But all of the staffers in service to the Royal Family had to keep one main rule of conduct: let the Royal Family live their lives as normally as possible. Freely translated, if they were caught gossiping or providing information about their employers to the press, they were fired immediately. After all, the sin _per se_ was not in having secrets, but in the world finding out about them.

If only keeping secrets had been simple in their world...

As protocol would have it, the butler wouldn't speak unless spoken to first. Instead, he accompanied the Queen on her way back inside the Palace. Taking one last look at the TV cars behind them, Hera asked:

"I hope you wouldn't mind telling me what those TV crews are here for?"

"They are for the Crown Princess, Ma'am. She is giving a short press conference about her bit tour in the Reception Hall as we speak."

"And what about His Majesty, how is he?"

"He is doing well, too. Although he has been rather... out of sorts while you were gone."

Although that had been the reassurance Hera had been waiting for eagerly all these months, it did not make her feel any better. She still felt that invisible weight on her shoulders, like a great responsibility she had forgotten about or a major risky decision about to be taken.

The minute she stepped foot in the Royal Palace, she stood by the door to take it all in. Funny, how she used to love that place. Back when being Queen had been mysterious and exciting. A time when she had no idea her role would be to hide all of her husband's faults under the perfectly clean carpet for fear of them losing everything they have had. When she was still hopeful that, in the end, they would be all right. That they could survive everything that came their way.

Zeus couldn't afford a second divorce. It'd most likely cost him the throne, the only one of his life's achievements which he held most dear.

The people could forgive him the first time. He had been young, he had gotten married because Dione had been in a delicate condition and he had made a mistake. But now it was too late. Hera couldn't leave him after twenty-three years and four children. His approval ratings had reached a new low since she had left and divorcing him now would prove that he was incapable of controlling his family, let alone his country.

Hera asked the butler to show her the way to her chambers via the staff doors. She had to avoid passing outside the Reception Hall on the ground floor, for fear of a journalist walking outside and noticing her.

Once upstairs, the first person she saw in her room was her dresser. True to form, she had waited until the door behind her was closed, so that she could remove her headscarf, sunglasses, coat, and gloves. Handing them all to her dresser, she then asked her to call her Private Secretary. There were so many things she had to take care of, such as release a statement about her return, arrange a meeting with her daughters, and think.

The last obligation was the scariest one. She had to figure out what she'd say to Zeus when she saw him again. They were under the same roof now, his own room as only a door and a small ante room away. He would certainly want to talk to her once he had found out about her return. And she knew that they could not play hide and seek forever.

Both of them had already wasted plenty of precious energy acting as childishly as they had done.

* * *

Wait. Hold on. I - what?

This was a joke. It had to be.

I have suddenly found myself starring in a badly written rom-com.

Zeus repeated his words:

"The Parliament has requested that you get married in order to secure your rights to the throne."

Yup. This is how Greece treats women in the twentieth-first century. With the brains of a man who lived through the 1950s.

And the very living caricature of it rushed to explain:

"With the reputation that you have now, that of the man-hunter, there are concerns about your ability to reign over the country. A marriage would prove that you are suited for the throne, that you are in a position to be serious. Not for a short period of time like the tour, but for an extended one. A lifetime!"

Pretty sure he didn't have the same kind of discussion with his father...

"Think about it!" he furthered. "You have nothing to lose. You will go on living the life that you do now, if you so wish. But you will have an umbrella: your spouse. People suspect a cheating king, no one will suspect a cheating queen."

No. They already slut-shame me enough.

"If you are smart enough, no one, not even your husband, will ever understand a thing!"

Easy for him to say! Gosh, he made such a terrible liar! Hera knew. She was the first to find out every single time. There were signs she could interpret. If someone like her could become an expert on infidelity, then so could my husband, whoever he might be.

"I am speaking to you not as a king towards a subject, but as a father towards his daughter. Let's not hide."

But we do. It's what we do.

"You know our financial situation. Your stepfath- Tantalus can afford you those infuriating luxuries you're after, lavish outfits and the like. The rest of us, we have to live by what we're given by the Greek taxpayers."

I knew that. He reminded me every day. He was also a terrible businessman whose dealings brought us more debt than profit. Don't ask where I have that kind of information from. My sources can't change the current situation.

"We also have to pay income tax back to the state, all of us. It's why some of your sisters _work_."

He meant Eileithyia, his and Hera's second-born child. She was working as a trained midwife, which had endeared her to the Greek people. But she was currently fourth in line, there was no way for her ever to ascend the throne. The last time I mentioned getting a job, however, Zeus reminded me, in his way, that my profession was being the Crown Princess. The one to wait in line till he decides either to die or to abdicate.

"But, given that you are my children and have royal titles, I still have to support some of you financially."

Yes, poor you, no one told you that pregnancies are expensive…

"So, I believe that a marriage the soonest possible is the best way for you to ensure the parliament that you are responsible and ready to assume your duties. You have left your scandalous past behind. I also-"

"What, found the man for me already?"

I couldn't keep it in. I had to burst out. Let all of the frustration come out.

He looked at me stunned:

"Pardon?"

"Oh, don't you act all high and mighty now! What, don't you think I know why you're doing this? You want to teach me a lesson. Fine. As long as you don't make a feast out of it and entrap me into a life with a man I haven't chosen!"

He stammered: "H-how do y-"

"Don't you think I know how stuck up in the middle ages you all are? Goodness, this is like watching a soap opera! You want me to get married so that no one doubts my integrity. Fine. But I'd rather remain unmarried for life if that will prove my integrity! Cause let me tell you something - the world knows you've cheated on your wife! You have the kids to prove it! I'm glad she's left you. Boy, am I glad she's left you! She's uncovered you. You're nothing but a mindless, thoughtless, careless shell of a man!"

He stood up. He was furious.

"You're talking to your king!"

"No! I'm talking to my father!"

I could've said more, but the air was already thick enough in there. I hurried out of the room, rushed down the stairs and run out of the Palace, never minding the poor staffer carrying the day's correspondence. I had nowhere else to go and the car was already waiting for me outside.

I told the driver to take me somewhere quiet, somewhere with few people, where I could think. He started the engine and turned on the radio. Loud enough for him not to mind what was happening in the back seat. He wouldn't even look at me. This way, I could have the illusion of loneliness for a change.

He began to drive and my eyes remained fixed on the view outside. It was a normal world, a city full of people with actual, serious problems, and all they wanted, needed, from me was to believe my life was a fairytale.

But it was only a vain, glass world, and once it breaks into a million pieces it can't be put back together.

Same for my relationship with my father.

Just as I thought he'd actually change, that he'd be genuinely pleased with me for a change, make me feel worthy… He had, yet again, used me as a pawn to his game.

Perhaps, he had never seen me as anything else in the first place.

I was but a daughter after all.

* * *

The drink sent a burning sensation down his throat and make him dizzy. But Zeus didn't care. He filled his glass again and took another long sip at it. Matter of fact, he had not expected things to turn out any different. Yet he was upset at his father being proven right. Yet again. He and Aphrodite were awfully similar. Stubborn, independent, impossible to tame... Of course she would never agree to this. Much as he had held on to the vain hope that six months away would have changed her.

The last time he had suggested something similar to Aphrodite, she took her revenge by fleeing the country. She would never admit it, but that had been the reason for her tour. She had wanted to get away from him, to have some time to herself to think.

Just like Hera

 _She will calm down,_ he thought as he was pouring himself another drink. _She will think it over, she isn't like me. She is sensible. She will figure out her marriage is for the best._

He stopped at his tracks. Funny, how those words could apply both to his wife and his daughter. Since Aphrodite had returned, perhaps Hera would too. Any day now. He had finally found out where she had hid, thanks to a trusted staffer. He had told him that Hera did look content, but lost. As if she had no idea what to do and had stuck to a routine that had allowed her as little thinking as possible.

 _Her and me both._

As he took another sip, his eyes landed on a picture on his desk. It had been taken in 1985, during a photo shoot for the Royal Family's official Easter cards. It had taken place, ironically enough, in Corfu. During their summer holidays. Aphrodite, with her curly blond hair, white dress and light blue hair band and Athena, with her pink dress and dark, straight hair caught in a ponytail. The heir and the spare. He was sitting on a rock with the Ionian Sea behind them, Aphrodite in his arms, sitting in front of him and smiling at the camera, whereas Athena was standing behind him, her own hands around his neck. She had a very serious expression on her face for a five-year-old girl. Only six months later, his first scandal about his infidelity would become known and his and Hera's marriage would be put to the test. The first of the many.

He took another careful look at the picture. It would forever show the antithesis between the two girls. As if their looks indicate, they were night and day. Aphrodite didn't have half of Athena's selflessness or sense of duty. On the contrary, she was self-centered to the moon and back. Just like him. Was it up to him, he'd never trust her with the country. But there were laws put into place, rules he had to follow. But he wouldn't let Athena take over either. She was too strategic, too opinionated, and illegitimate. The perfect recipe for disaster. Ares. Now, he could have been a good choice. He had been even groomed as the heir for some time, where the Conservative Government had risen to power again and had questioned the previous, Socialist government's decision to allow absolute primogeniture. They had been willing to turn a blind eye at Ares being adopted if it had been for him to inherit the throne. Yet most Conservatives had disagreed. Aphrodite was the eldest child and she had been born to Zeus. She was the rightful heiress.

Zeus relaxed his tie. He had two choices: either give Aphrodite some time or try to change her mind by not giving her another choice.

Each one was equally dangerous. The first one might give her the chance to get her revenge the way she did best - by using the press to her advantage. The second one could infuriate her further and result in more unpleasant surprises. He'd end up severely damaged by the war she'd bring on him and without Hera by his side, he couldn't win. Aphrodite was afraid of Hera, she would do anything to avoid her step-mother's wrath.

He could only wish that Aphrodite wouldn't get Dione involved in it. His ex-wife knew him well, despite them being divorced for twenty-five years, and their daughter had always been closer to her mother. Tantalus had powerful connections, most of them involving Zeus' supporters. All of those Greeks living abroad, the ones who had made millions, were hardcore monarchists, and Tantalus was among them. Aphrodite had convinced them that she was worthy of being her father's successor. But business was business. All those powerful men would believe Tantalus, one of their own kind, instead of their King.

He filled his glass again. Once more, he gulped it all down.

Perhaps he had had too much alcohol. His throat was dry and he felt slightly dizzy, although he could still walk.

Air. He needed some fresh air.

He walked out of his study. Walked through the small anteroom and straight into the foyer. Every single person he found on his way stopped to bow their heads, but he didn't have the time nor the mood to nod back.

He climbed up the marble Grand Staircase. He needed to wash his face before he walked out through the back door to the Gardens.

Then he smelled it. Her perfume.

Hera.

She had come back!

He climbed a few more stairs. Just enough for him to take a good look of what was going on on the floor above. He had first spotted her newly dyed blond hair. Caught in a neat messy bun, as she would always do when traveling.

There was no doubt about it. She had indeed come back!

She had forgiven him!

If he ran, he could catch up with her. But she was talking to her Private Secretary, something about some complaints she had about the condition in which she had found the Royal Palace. She was too busy to even turn to look at the stairs right next to her.

Perhaps he was wrong. Maybe he was drunker than he had thought. All that tension from his audience with Aphrodite, all those glasses of brandy on an empty stomach and him missing Hera were to blame for him having those visions.

As far as he was concerned, his wife was in Corfu with his sister.

Yet her very vision of her kept walking in front of his very eyes, talking as if she were a living, breathing thing, before disappearing. Gone.

He had a headache. He needed to wash his face and go for a walk as soon as possible. The fresh air would definitely do him some good. Clear his head.

Maybe he did not want to make sure that it had been indeed Hera he had seen. He would rather accept that she had been a trick of his mind.

He just couldn't stand the thought that he could have caught up with her but did not out of cowardice.

Because that's what he had been. All along.


	3. Chapter 3

Zeus felt so much better. A long walk in the Gardens of the Royal Palace had indeed done wonders on his mood. As soon as he had stepped out of the back door, he stood still for a minute, closing his eyes. He felt the November breeze hit him and he shivered. He should have worn a coat beforehand but perhaps it had been better that way. The colder he felt, the sooner he'd recover from his headache. An old trick that always did wonders on him.

He climbed down the Marble Staircase in the gardens of the Royal Palace - the same one which Hera had climbed up some hours ago - and he started to stroll through the Gardens. Everywhere he looked, he could see little bits and pieces of his family's history. On his left were the pine trees his mother had asked to be planted back in 1963, one year after she had become Queen. And over there, right opposite him had been his Grandmother, Queen Gaia's, small floor fountain, hiding behind some bushes. And he could still remember how, four years ago, Hera had convinced the Parliament to and the Ministry of Culture to make the Gardens a place where the statues of various Greek sculptors, both old and new, would be displayed. She had wanted to make the Royal Palace the centre of the cultural life of Athens, if not of Greece, and, since she had become Queen, she had persisted that all state banquets and other official occasions took place there. Now, of course, the statues had been taken to museums. But in summertime, where they could host state banquets or other official functions in the Gardens, new ones would arrive, either from old artists or rising stars.

For some odd reason, each single Queen Consort had felt the need to leave her stigma in the Royal Palace Gardens, as if that would have been the only way for them to ensure their legacy.

As soon as the weather got a little bit windier, Zeus made his way back to the Palace. Without talking to anyone, he rushed up the stairs, heading straight to his private chambers. The first thing he did after he had entered was to remove his tie. He couldn't stand that thing for far longer. His valet would help him put it back on when it would be time for him to get back to his business as head of state. Those parliamentary papers would soon be on his desk again, waiting for him to sign them, so that new laws could be put into action. Whether he agreed with them or not. In case he refused, there would have been a constitutional crisis which would lead, in the best possibility, to a new general election. It would also do unrepairable damage to his own legacy, which Zeus could not afford to risk.

Taking a look at the clock on the wall, he still had about three hours before those papers arrived in their blue box. A nod to the colours of the Greek flag.

Until then, he had plenty of time to smoke one of his favourite cigars. Nothing but a good, long smoke with that strong smell of burned tobacco to cheer him up.

However, when he had asked his valet to hand him one, he was taken by surprise:

"I am afraid this isn't possible, Sir. Her Majesty has requested that they are removed from the Palace at once."

So, it was true then. He was not going mad! The woman he had seen walking by had truly been her.

"The Queen has returned?"

The valet seemed surprised by the King's ignorance about the Queen's whereabouts, although he hid it well:

"A few hours ago, Sir. She is currently resting."

Zeus thanked him and fixed his jacket himself. The valet recognized that notion - the King was nervous. True to form, he bowed and quietly left the room. His Majesty needed a second or two to think of his next moves.

She was only a door away. He just had to open it and he would reunite with his wife, like any other sensible husband would. Truth is, he was eager to see her again, hold her in his arms and be reassured that everything was back to normal. He couldn't think properly when they were apart. Whatever he did, he kept asking himself about what Hera's opinion would be. What kind of advice she'd give him. If the reason for her long absence was to make him see how he couldn't live without her, she had achieved it. Much less of a man as that made him feel.

Without a second thought, he stormed out of his room and knocked on her door. Common courtesy required that he waited for her maid to open the door, but social etiquette did not apply for a husband eager to see his wife again after three months apart. Zeus rushed in, with a big smile on his face. Hera turned to look at him, stunned. She was standing by the window, a glass of red wine in her hands. She was simply dressed, just a pair of beige trousers and a white sweatshirt on top. She was all alone in her room.

Zeus took a good look at her. She looked very much a Queen that had returned to her rightful realm; a woman that had come back home.

Hera had no idea how to react. She had been dreading the moment she would have to face Zeus again the most and she had tried to postpone it for as long as possible, yet there he was, staring at her, looking relieved. She blamed her procrastination, her fear of coming up with a plan, for knowing what things to say. She refused to be caught off guard now, to show him her weakness. But she felt his eyes on her and it only made her weak on the knees.

Then she heard his voice: deep, husky, authoritative. About to call her like he hadn't done in the longest while:

"Darling?"

She clenched her fist. She wanted to take a sip of that wine but that would only betray her real feelings.

"Couldn't hide for long, could I?" she said, trying to sound as calm as possible. She had to make him believe she still had the upper hand. Heavens, how she enjoyed seeing his frail self!

"What are you doing here?" she added.

"I came to see you!"

Hera didn't reply. Zeus struggled with the next words. It is hard, after all, to utter things you would only admit to yourself!

"I-I missed you."

She faced him. That well-known, ice-cold glare he had felt on him too many times. The one that revealed the Queen in her. She was no longer his wife. Let alone the lovely girl he had once almost given up everything for.

"Honest?"

"Yes," he muttered.

Hera did not answer. She looked at her glass, then outside the window. Taking a deep breath, she summoned up the courage to walk towards him. Her heart was beating wildly. All she wanted was to fall into his arms and cry like a baby. But she ought to keep a safe distance.

"Have you thought things through?" she asked, not wasting any time. "About your... actions?"

She had no idea what she was hoping for when she had asked that question. She knew the kind of answer she would get:

"Can't you just - forget it? For heaven's sake, Hera, we're not children! This isn't the first time that -"

"I've played the fool too many times, Zeus, now all I want is honesty!" Tears were streaming down her face. They were all that anger, anticipation, and stress that had built up during the day as she was traveling back to the Palace, as she was staring at the clock, waiting for the door to burst open and for him to walk inside.

"At long last, stop hiding from yourself!"

"Have you still not forgiven me?"

If Zeus could, he would create a scene like the one his daughter caused earlier. Matter of fact, more people would be worried about his anger bursting out than about Aphrodite's showcase of bad temper. After all, both father and daughter had a reputation for being intemperate.

Though he had been the one to keep up appearances:

"Why is this time different than all the rest?" he asked.

"You tell me!"

A few deep breaths, enough for her to calm down enough to mutter the next words:

"It did hurt, you know. Finding out about all those other women. But - this?"

She looked at him, how he stiffened. Hands falling on the side, the guilty look on his face… Like a small child being disciplined.

"Whatever changed?" she whispered.

He didn't know what to say. He had also asked himself the same question. Over and over again, since that fateful night. Was it his fault? Absolutely. It wasn't Hera's. She was always the innocent party. The fault was always his and his alone. Yet, he couldn't find the very cause. Try as he might, no matter how many sleepless nights he had spent, he couldn't figure out what had caused him to commit what he did. But never had he felt more like a criminal about his doing than now that Hera was the one asking him:

"I- I don't know."

Her eyes still on him, her voice trembling:

"I gave you three months to find an answer to that question."

Turning her back to him, she walked back toward her chair. To both of them, this was an odd deja vu. And they knew how it ended.

"Will you leave again?"

"No." Hera took a sip of her wine, crossing her legs - one knee on top of the other. "You know what they say, we never really leave the crime scene. We're doomed to return to it, no matter what. I have to protect you. Apparently, that I can do well."

Zeus still wouldn't calm down. Now he was certain, Hera had not come back for him. She returned to her duty. Understandable. It was all she had known for the past twenty years. The only constant in her life. As long as she was Queen, she was bound to serve and protect her husband. His reputation, his power, was her duty. Her loving him wasn't. It had never been.

"We must talk about it," he pleaded. "Talk things through."

"It's useless at this point. I gave you too many second chances."

Zeus had nothing to say about it. She was right. A person could only stand as much.

"If you can't look at yourself in the mirror, it's your doing and yours alone!" she furthered. Yet it was what she said next that reminded him of that night, of the strains of whiskey on the tapestry.

"Do speak to me again only when you have the answer. Now you know where to find me!"

And thus, once more, one of them left. Without saying another word. It was her, this time, the one with the drink in her hand. She had a choice: throw it against the wall, or gulp it all down at once.

Zeus knew that Hera would prompt for the second option. It's what she always did, after all. Always the one to take everything in.

But for how much longer?

* * *

 _ _Hotel_ GB, the same evening_

For better or worse, I've learned early on in life that privilege is not a walk in the park. Both literally and metaphorically. When I was a child, I had to learn how to put on a happy face and pretend that I was pleased with my life. Remember, I have been the Crown Princess since I was three. I have grown up in the spotlight. People have followed my life since before I was born and they are always expecting me to live the fairytale they are dreaming of, they want me to be the one to mess up and make them forget about their troubles, even for a little while. Then they accuse me for getting more than I am worth, for causing scandals and for living the great life I had never asked for in the first place. Security detail always in tow. Even behind closed doors.

I am still upset with Father's decision, but life has to go on. I have a schedule to stick to and it leaves little room for sentiment. After I had gone for a walk to that park to clear my head - my bodyguards always nearby, to make sure no fanatic anti-royalist would harm me - I returned to the hotel and took Blanche out for a another walk. My maids were surprised, since they were usually the ones to do so, but I just needed all the time outside I could get. Once again we had to drive in a nearby park (the nearest we could get to) for two reasons: first, dogs need to smell things, to be as close to nature as possible; and second, to avoid passers-by stopping, pointing at me, whispering and then "secretly", as if I could not see them, taking a picture of me walking my dog, which they would then show proudly to their friends and family. Having no idea that I was entitled to bad days as much as everyone else.

Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy posing for the camera. But even that gets unbearable at times.

The moment I step into the Royal Suite after the walk, I get rid of my coat first thing. Doesn't matter where I stand or if there's people around - if it must go, off it goes. Good for me, there's always someone there to pick it up. Then comes the "oh, but it's so expensive!" or the "it's a true original, a gift from the designer itself!" kind of stare that everyone lucky enough to touch my clothes gives them. Apparently, no one has ever told them that wearing them is actually half the fun. The other half - the most pleasurable part - is getting them off. Leave them on the floor, they can serve as additional decoration. After all, you'll get new ones in three months and your current wardrobe will go to museums to be exhibited after forty years.

I unleash Blanche, have something to eat and then, wearing a different outfit, I go to that event about anorexia survivors. Setting up this charity had been one of the very few things in my life I actually feel proud of. Although I am not a victim of it. Still, every time I meet the people suffering from it - be it women or men - it is an odd kind of give and take. I have to give them strength and support and, in return, they give me hope. Heavens above and hell beneath know how much I need that today of all days.

That and a bar of dark chocolate. Another little pick-me-up to make me feel better and give me the energy I need to celebrate my freedom. As much as I still can.

By the way, thank you, world, for giving us dutiful maids! They show up exactly when you're supposed to ring for them.

"The sun is still up, I see!" I tell the friendly one, the one that came holding the dark chocolate after she entered the sitting room. "Gives us plenty of time to get me ready!"

Picking up my coat, she asks:

"Miss?"

"I haven't enjoyed the true nightlife in the longest while! You'd be a fool to believe I'd waste the opportunity after spending six months in the dullness that was Europe and the U.S!"

She understands me at once. I know that smile, it is the face people do when they're about to consciously break the rules of etiquette yet again and who never keep track of the times they have done so.

"What would you like me to do?"

"Pour me a drink, tell the other one to call the chauffeur and every single one of the 'usual suspects'."

She looks at me stunned:

"With all due respect, Miss, you haven't called them in the longest while."

"Nothing to worry about, love! I'm a big girl, I can take good care of myself! Now, I want to wear my favorite dress. The mini black one with the red details on the side. Loose curls… Leave the make-up to me!"

"You will look great in it, Miss!"

"I intend to. Buckle up! Tonight, we're getting naughty!"

I look at her, she looks at me and we both burst out laughing.

How great is it, to have someone that never asks questions!

* * *

 _The next day…_

 _25 November 2006_

 _Royal Palace_

Both Zeus and Hera dreaded having breakfast together, but they had no other choice. They still hadn't talked things through. In fact, they subconsciously postponed it for as long as possible. However, they did have the boring small talk they usually had at this time of day, talking about their children and their schedule, mostly to keep the staffers from gossiping about them further. There was no way of avoiding them - they were standing by the doors, serving them food and carrying the morning papers. They ought to be careful. After all, no member of the Royal Family should underestimate the power of downstairs gossip.

The show went on nicely until one of Zeus' private secretaries entered. After apologizing for the disturbance, she told them that a young maid would like to speak to them and that she had insisted it was urgent. With a single hand notion, Zeus let her in. Her uniform revealed that she was in Aphrodite's service - the one she didn't like much. The young girl curtsied and waited for the King to give her permission to speak:

"Well?"

"Your Majesties. Her Royal Highness went out last night. In one of those… places. With alcohol and flowers and the singers performing live."

She had the full attention of the King and the Queen. Zeus clapped his fingers, indicating for all the servants to leave the room at once. Only after all the doors in the room were shut could Zeus ask:

"Did she go incognito?"

"I believe so, Sir," she hurried to reply. "I am certain that the security detail you employed for her was with her. In civilian clothes, of course."

Hera's interference in the discussion was diplomatic enough not to bother Zeus. Matter of fact, she was trying to calm him down. She could tell by the look on the poor girl's face that she didn't have any good news to share.

"I do not see anything wrong with her enjoying herself in safety. What time did she come back?"

"In the early morning hours, Ma'am. But, rather, it is the state she was found in that might be of interest to you."

Zeus was getting impatient:

"Speak up, then!"

The maid took a deep breath before going on with her narrative:

"Well… She was conscious, for the most part at least. I had to open the door for her bodyguard and the driver to get her inside. They had to be careful, so that there would be no…" she tried to find the right words. "Unpleasant surprises."

Hera easily put together the pieces of the puzzle. She knew the lengths her step-daughter would go to in order to cause as much chaos as possible. Her question would infuriate Zeus further, but she wanted to make sure it wasn't what she suspected:

"Do tell me she came back with her clothes on…."

The maid hesitated, obviously ashamed of the King's presence. A look into his eyes, however, convinced her there was no alternative:

"Without…"

The bomb had dropped. Both Zeus and Hera wanted the ground to swallow them up. The staffers present had heard the whole thing. God knows what they'd tell their colleagues later! But that was the least of their concerns. They rushed to recreate the picture of what had happened the night before: a one night stand, perhaps. Were there journalists around? People with cameras? People who took pictures and videos on their mobile phones? If so, she'd be all over the national news. If they were lucky, no footage would be shown internationally. Even better if there was absolutely no footage! She did have security, surely her men destroyed any material that might be proven harmful to her reputation and credibility?

 _The stupid, stupid girl!_

The maid tried to patch things up:

"She was covered with her coat. I had to carry her from the sitting room to her bedroom, and she kept calling odd names."

Zeus tried as much as possible to hide his frustration, but the loudness of his voice revealed it:

"What kind of names?

"The people she went out with, Sir. She calls them 'the usual suspects'. They are people of notable social standing, but troublesome reputations. There are rumors that some of them are involved in dreadful things."

Hera brought her hand on her forehead. This whole thing was giving her a headache. She had heard enough. Yet, her curiosity got the best of her:

"What kind?"

"Let me just say, Ma'am… That them exploiting Her Royal Highness publicly is among the best things they could do. She hasn't referred to them in the longest while, I promise you. But she knows that the moment she calls them, they will do anything for her."

 _Hold on a second…_ It all made sense now! Hera realized the cause for Aphrodite's worrisome behavior. It was all, yet again, her husband's doing. Something he had said, perhaps, or a decision he had taken. Aphrodite' s mischiefs the night before was her way of telling him either to stop trying to control her or to trust her more. It could also be something else - it might have been a warning. But what for?

The maid knew it was time for her to go. With a single bow, she walked away and closed the door behind her, leaving Zeus and Hera alone in the room.

Facing her husband, Hera asked him straight out:

"What did you do?"

* * *

 _Alexandroupoli, Northern Greece_

 _Army base_

He had known the Army would become his second home the minute he had been drafted permanently. At long last, he had discovered his identity. He could show his value there, without having people treat him either like the prince or the outsider. Sure, he was a member of the Royal Family, and he could as well have been the heir under different circumstances. But having no real power was not part of his plan. See, Ares was ambitious. Far more than any other member of his family. He would not be given power because of his birthright (which he lacked anyway, being adopted). No, he would fight for it. Earn it. Feel like he's truly worthy of it. He'd waste as much blood, sweat and tears as possible. His power had to be his own. Otherwise, it was useless.

This city in Northern Greece, a few kilometers away from the borders with Turkey, was the place for him to prove his value. His mother, the Queen, tried to keep him back, of course. Convince him about the safety issues, transfer him somewhere quieter. Much as he adored her, he had to turn down her suggestion. It wouldn't have been manly of him to keep on doing as Mama said.

She keeps reminding him that the offer still stands the first chance she gets. He had made up his mind. He'd take a bullet for her - after all, he swore upon the King and the Queen that he would give up his life for Greece - but she, too, had to respect his wishes. He didn't want to be treated like their son but a subject. Hard as it was for his parents to tell the difference.

Here, he was simply known as Ares Olympios, nicknamed "the Prince." Not as "His Highness Prince Ares of Greece" and other such nonsense. Just another man in the crowd. As it should be. Still, he couldn't run away from the fact that his half-sister was going to be the first Queen Regnant of Greece. Truth be told, he had no idea what he'd do if he stepped into her shoes, but making a spectacle of herself surely wasn't it.

He had seen the picture in the papers. Aphrodite dancing on a table in one of Athens' fanciest night clubs. He was in the dining room, getting some rest after a big practice. That picture would surely find itself on the desks and collections of many of his comrades, give them something to fantasize over. Heck, it had already become the talk of the town.

"Hey, Prince!" shouted a soldier. "Your sister's at it again!"

Another one joined in:

"Leave him be! Pretty sure his Mama doesn't let him anywhere near her! Let's be fair, I wouldn't blame you if you couldn't keep yer hands off of her!"

 _If only they knew…_ he thought but soon came back to his senses. Then a third voice was heard:

"She free? I know someone that might be willing to become her king if no one else is available!"

Everyone burst out laughing. Bad of him as it might be, Ares grinned. But he had to put an end to all this malarkey. After all, it was disrespectful to the Crown Princess.

"Don't keep your spirits up, any of you!" he said. "She wouldn't look at your ugly faces anyway!"

"What, are we way beneath her expectations?" the second soldier boasted. "Pretty sure the Prince here wants her for himself!"

 _Keep calm, don't let them get to you._

"She's my sister!"

" _Adoptive_ sister!" the first soldier replied. "We've all done our homework on your family!"

Then spoke the third soldier again:

"You're a lucky guy, the road's free for ya!"

Ares was starting to lose his temper. They were too close to crossing the line.

"She's gonna be your Commander-in-chief one day! And you're gonna have to mind your P's and Q's in her presence!"

The first soldier climbed on his metal table and stood at attention:

"For Queen and Country!"

All the other soldiers - including the two that were also mocking Aphrodite - joined him and repeated after him: "For Queen and Country!"

That's it. They had overdone it. They were clearly mocking her and it was his duty, as her brother, servant and future subject, to defend her.

Grabbing the first soldier by the shirt, he shoved him against the nearest wall. His face was very close to him, enough a distance for him to whisper menacingly, yet loud enough for all to hear:

"If you say one more thing about her, you're gonna have to deal with me. Clear?

The soldier knew what Ares meant, and he was certain that he wasn't joking:

"Clear!"

"Good!" Loosening his grip of him, Ares shoved him against the wall one last time as a reminder. Then he let him go.

To the crowd that had gathered to witness the scene, he said:

"Now go about your business. And yours alone!"

He wished he could do the same.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Ku-wee! (however you spell it) I'm back! I'm still alive. The senior thesis is out of the way, and I realized how much I hate, hate, hate writing academic stuff. So, since now I have an awful lot of free time, I will try and update sooner. I already missed this story an awful lot and my head is filled with ideas about the future chapters. T** ** **hanks to all the reviewers, followers etc that have supported this story so far :) And s** pecial thanks to my friends, Maggie (runawaysoultrain) and Jen for putting up with my endless whining and for reading the awful first drafts of Aphrodite's POVs (and if you like Titanic fanfics, go and check out Maggie's work).  
**

 **Just letting you know that I edited this chapter with only three hours of sleep, so if you notice any grammar or other mistakes, feel free to let me know. Constructive criticism is always welcome :)**

 **Happy reading!**

* * *

 _ _Royal Suite, Hotel_ GB  
_

 _Morning_

Of course I love animals! All of them! Even the two-legged ones in my own family!

Me chief among them!

Oh gosh, what have I done? Why does partying give you such a headache? What time is it? And where is my dress?

Oh. I forgot. I lost it.

I know, I know. It's impossible to lose something that you have on you at all times. But I have always been the exception to the rule.

Pretty sure His Majesty has just added one more thing to his list of reasons for which I will be the death of him. But if you ask me, for now, I hate everyone and everything.

Especially the 'usual suspects' for insisting I had one vodka after the other.

Well, that seems to explain everything... And my stupid bodyguards were nearby, didn't say a thing but instead let me make a spectacle of myself until it was a little too late...

 _This is not what you're getting paid for!_

Ouch.

Great, even shouting in my head makes things worse. And I am used to drinking. I just can't remember if I counted how many glasses - or bottles - I had.

"Your juice, Miss!"

That's how my friendly maid calls it. It's the perfect cure for hangover with immediate results. It's burgundy, smells like rosemary and tastes like your aunt Mildred threw soap in the soup but served it anyway.

Remind me, after I am done with being drunk and have eaten some solid food, to start making the necessary phone calls.

First off, I need to replace my security detail. Pretty sure I made a nice sight, but their job does not state that they are allowed to sit back, drink, eat peanuts and watch me embarrassing myself. For heaven's sake, you are supposed to come to my rescue! Better yet, I trust those people with my life...

If my bodyguards don't get replaced, I will use the direct access I have to the Armed Forces. They're only a phone call away.

Second, the 'usual suspects'. I should not allow those people anywhere near me ever again.

Pretty sure those 'friends' cashed in plenty of money already by selling those pictures of me to the press. It wouldn't be the first time either.

Oh gosh, something tells me I had better not leave the suite today.

* * *

 _Royal Palace_

It was not the first time that Zeus had been asked to come to the rescue of Aphrodite's reputation and credibility. Something told him it would not be the last either.

But his hands were tied. The law was different now and he could not change it without causing a riot from the public, who would call him 'political'. Once she was queen, she could destroy everything he and his ancestors had worked so hard to build for all she wanted. Yet, as long as she was his heiress, he and the Government had to do everything in their power to keep the Monarchy afloat.

The Prime Minster shared that view as well.

Luckily for Zeus, the ruling party was the conservative one. Royalists. Old money. Businessmen. They could understand.

It was not unusual for the King to have lunch with the PM. It was more of a private audience, including the Queen and a two-course meal. It was an occasion for them to discuss ideas, urgent matters, and ways to solve disputes. Behind closed doors. No one could suspect Zeus for being more politically involved than his role commanded unless they had the necessary proof and he could trust the members of the Administration - any Administration - to keep the secret. It was one of the many that was kept away from the world to see, for the sake of the country.

For the PM, having lunch with the King was among his duties. They never discussed personal matters - it was all about politics. Or about the reputation of the Royal Family. This time, it was both.

The latest proof of the Crown Princess' unruly behaviour could also put the future of his own Government in danger. He had been in power for only two years. Too early to accomplish anything.

Naturally, he could not reveal any of that to the King. The monarch was the Head of State; he was the Head of the Government. The King's role was strictly ceremonial, whereas the PM had actual authority.

Still, when he was in the King's presence, Zeus had the upper hand.

Even during an 'informal' lunch, not attended by the Queen because she had other responsibilities to attend to. She had to prepare the gala to announce her return. The Press Office had already informed the journalists on the upcoming event, which would take place in late December - just in time for her birthday as well. She had decided not to waste any more time in wondering whether Zeus was worth her forgiveness. Her job was to be the Queen of a country and she was determined to thrive in it. Convince the Greeks she was all right, and that everything was fine in her marriage. Make them proud that, at least they had a Queen who took her job seriously. It would silence her husband's doubters.

The truth had to be kept strictly under wraps. Even from the Government. Somehow, Aphrodite proved to be the perfect distraction, yet the same rules applied in her case.

The Prime Minister had made sure to inform the King on the matter as well:

"I understand that the pictures of the Heiress are particularly disturbing, Your Majesty, and today being a Saturday does not help matters either. It's the day most people buy their newspapers to read because today is when they have the most free time. Certainly seeing Her Royal Highness in... well... acting the way she did will spark some protest. This morning alone, I had to deal with many angry MPs demanding that the subject is discussed in an emergency parliamentary meeting."

"I see there is no way of avoiding the Opposition questioning her credibility," Zeus replied.

"With all due respect, Sir, she is to become the country's first Queen Regnant. Politics is a man's domain. Surely, not many colleagues are pleased with the prospect of having to be reigned by a woman. Regardless of reputation or personality. But as far as the Parliament is concerned, some MPs wish for Princess Athena to take over. And, according to the recent polls, many citizens share the same view."

Zeus remained silent, although he knew that Aphrodite's approval ratings remained unaffected by the fiasco. Right opposite him sat a man who supported the monarchy, yet had no idea how it worked. The kind of sacrifices it took to save it from destruction, especially in Greece. The country that invented Democracy. Where monarchs were both adored and detested. Whereas in other countries royal families were symbols of unity, there they were yet another cause for public dispute. For the Greeks, there is no such thing as 'the middle ground'.

"I know how many people would rather have Princess Athena as their queen, but she is political. She has an opinion about everything. She would interfere. The Greeks don't like someone for whom they haven't voted to take decisions on their behalf. They don't even approve of the Government they themselves have elected! The Crown Princess is not that much of a genius when it comes to politics. In fact, the worst she has caused was an early general election. You know the Greeks, they love to vote. They're political animals. Give them a reason to fight over politics and they'll love you forever, and the Crown Princess gives them just that. Besides, if we want to secure the future of the Monarchy, we need the young people by our side, and they adore Aphrodite. Somehow, her being more of a celebrity than a political figure is what draws them to her, makes her more likable in their eyes."

The PM realized that he had to do as the King wished. He did not like the prospect of Aphrodite as Queen Regnant either, but he had no other choice. The hardest part was to convince his ministers and three hundred MPs, most of whom were male career politicians, that the King had made up his mind.

After all, His Majesty also a father and, as that, had every right to make decisions on behalf of his family. It was just that this family also happened to have titles and live off of taxpayers' money. Any other private source of income came from investments, namely in shipping and commercial companies, would not become known; no one knew the true extent of the Greek Royal Family's wealth other than the King and his financiers. Although a detailed list of their income and expenses was published in the _Government Gazette_ \- the official journal of the Greek Government - at the end of every year, they only concerned the money they received from the Greek citizens. There were no legislations about the Government controlling the Royal Family's private wealth and no politician thought it was a subject worthy of thorough discussion in Parliament either.

"I trust that you will understand the severity of the situation," Zeus added. "I, too, will take the necessary measures to ensure that the Crown Princess does not make the same mistake again."

He put down his fork. The PM, disappointed that he had not finished his lunch, followed Zeus' lead and stood up. His Majesty walked up to him and gave him a firm handshake:

"Do remind the members of the Opposition that they passed the law for absolute primogeniture when they were in power. The Crown Princess has proved what she can do. She has used her fame to promote Greece. Surely that does not hurt."

Agreeing with the monarch, the PM bowed his head and knocked on the door. Two seconds later, it opened and he was out of the room. As two staffers walked in to clean the dining table, Zeus made his way to his office. All of those magazine covers his eldest daughter was featured on had certainly brought fame to her and gave Greece additional glamour. Yet being a monarch - a respected one - took more than that.

He knew why she acted the way she did. It was partly his fault. He had revealed his plans to get her married without her consent. He had somehow hoped that she'd have changed her mind by now. It had been a few months, after all. She had seen how the world worked.

Still, as he entered his office - the only place in the Palace where he felt secure - he could not help it:

 _Can't she understand that I have more important things to worry about than her?_

* * *

 _Royal Suite, Hotel_ _ _GB__

 _An hour later..._

I'm fine, I'm up, I won't kill anyone now.

The aunt-Mildred-soapy-soup brew worked its magic yet again. I could finally focus on getting at least one thing accomplished, even if that was just getting a look at my schedule for the day after tomorrow.

Yes, all of my engagements for today and tomorrow are canceled due to 'fatigue'. That's the lie that Zeus Almighty's Private Secretaries (all three of them) came up with to give me two days to think about 'the consequences of my actions'.

Darlings, I have. It's why I won't leave the hotel. The vultures will be all over me if I dare show my face in public after last night's shenanigans. But, thank God we do live in a country where something always happens. Fingers crossed that a Minister or an MP will mess up with a new legislation, or a business scandal comes up, and all of these journalists find something else to whine about.

My own Private Secretary is here and is sitting in the living room, watching the Greek and international news. Good thing is, I have not been featured on CNN. Yet. Bad news is, the Greek journalists - who used to praise me only _yesterday_ \- now say I am incapable of taking over the throne just because I danced on a table... Like, excuse me, Sir, you with the grey hair and the awful tie... Do you have any idea how many women dance on tables every night? This is Greece, for heaven's sake, people come from all over the world to, among others, dance on tables in those night clubs, while the singers are singing on stage and people just keep throwing carnations all over the place.

It's tradition. It's Athenian lifestyle. We live in the actual City That Never Sleeps. Honestly, we put New York to shame.

You can't blame me for enjoying myself, after all I have done for Greece - which is far more than you have done anyway.

So hell yeah. I did go out; and drink; and dance on a table.

The 'I lost my dress' part came later. Honestly, I have no idea where it is.

Lesson learned: never, ever, wear custom-made couture when you go out with some 'friends' of yours that don't really have the best reputation out there. But you can leave it on the floor if you want. As long as you know it's going to be there the next morning.

By the way, if that dress is sold to the black market tomorrow for twice the price it is actually worth, I wouldn't be surprised.

Who wouldn't want to own a dress once worn by the Crown Princess of Greece?

It does not follow the royal standards. It's a couple of inches shorter than the royal protocol declares. Or, maybe, say, more than that. Practically a long blouse. But I don't even have a reputation for sticking with the protocol. Unless I really have to act like the Crown Princess. Or when I'm around people. Honestly, some of them are annoying.

Here's another piece of advice. Never trust people who don't know how to eat with more than one set of cutlery. Or who don't know that, when you meet a royal, you bow (for men) or curtsy (for women). Or who don't know how to do it properly. The worst is all those people who finish eating or who stand up without you having given them permission to do so.

When the King or the PM is present, you should follow their lead. If the King _and_ the PM are present, then the PM is one with the crowd and finishes eating as soon as the King sets down his fork. When only the PM is present, the King is not, and I am attending the event as 'the daughter of the King' (say, in unofficial galas), I follow the PM's lead. However, when I act as the Vicereine - as I do when the King and the Queen are abroad on state visits or on sick leave and things like that - the PM has to follow my lead since I am acting as the de facto head of state at that moment.

It sounds confusing, I know, but you get the hang of it eventually. Personally, I was trained on this my whole life and still couldn't tell the difference between King and PM as official roles until I was fourteen. I'm not the smartest cookie out there, in case you haven't noticed.

Why am I telling you all this? To keep my mind from thinking of what is going on on the room right outside my bedchamber. I have been stuck in here since I woke up, following my Secretary's advice. And my friendly maid's. I should keep away from any television, radio or newspaper there is. So that I wouldn't get upset. That's sweet of them, but I have survived Zeus Almighty as my father for the whole twenty-six years of my life. Honestly, last thing I give a damn about is what people who don't even know me in person - or at least well enough to have a decent opinion - say about me.

Good thing that Blanche is there with me, all over my bed, staring at me with those big, black eyes of hers and waving her tail slowly. She is full of energy, but she still can sense that something was wrong with me today.

"You want to play, don't you?"

She lifts her head up, the wave waging higher, and brings her two front feet one of top of the other. Then she yawns. And waits.

"Come here! Good girl!"

With one jump, she is out of the bed and right in front of me. There's something about those Samoyed dogs, they might look like mini polar bears but in fact, they're big, fluffy, friendly snow balls. And they love being hugged.

Basically, Blanche is the best friend I've ever had. I can whine all I want and she listens without complaining. Chase her around with her favourite blanket too and she'll love you forever.

So this big, fluffy white lion made herself comfortable on my lap when Lydia walks into the room. That's the Private Secretary for those who wonder. And holding a black leather folder. This wasn't good.

"I apologize for not knocking first, Miss, but this is just arrived. It's the new schedule for you. His Majesty requested that you adhere to his wishes with as little fuss as possible."

"I would have been more surprised if he had not said that."

I scan the paper. Yup. As I expected. My 'punishment' for losing stuff from my wardrobe is twice as many engagements as I am supposed to have on a weekly basis. As stated by the Constitution. Yes, they actually tell us how busy we are allowed to be so that people won't accuse us for intruding in politics...

Just make me Queen already!

"You know, the first time my agenda had been that filled, I was sixteen years old," I say, either to Lydia or to Blanche - whoever wants to hear. "I almost eloped with the step-son of a Spanish aristocrat whom I had met on a visit to Madrid. Also a minor. When the King found out, he threatened to have the poor boy killed if he ever came within walking distance to me again. Then he sent me to a boarding school in Switzerland for six months. After I returned to Greece, he had my timetable altered and I had so many engagements to attend to that I did not have time to think about anything but what shoes to wear.'

The last bit was another distraction, actually. All of our outfits are set, complete with accessories, up to two weeks before every public appearance. But I still needed something to get my mind off of things.

Shoes be it.

* * *

 _ _Dining Room,_ Royal Palace  
_

 _The same afternoon..._

"I can either be King of the Hellenes, or I can control Aphrodite. I couldn't possibly do both."

"Pardon?"

Zeus turned to face his wife. Hera was sitting nearby, enjoying a cup of green tea. Just a little something to help her relax.

"It's what Theodore Roosevelt would say about his daughter. 'I can either be the President of the United States, or I can control Alice. I couldn't possibly do both'. I find that it applies in our case too."

"You did not handle it well, darling. You knew how she would react."

"I did not expect her to come home in such an unruly state."

They were in the anteroom of the library, a small sitting room where they could have a cup of coffee, relax, and discuss confidential family matters. Hera still didn't wish to spend time with Zeus. However, she had to make everyone believe that everything was fine between them. After all, the staffers and the courtiers were the worst kind of people. Last thing she wanted was those kind of 'insiders' selling information about their private lives to the press. She was not as naive as her eldest step-daughter. If she had been, her husband would not have been king for twenty-three years.

"You need to get those people away from her. What did she call them? The 'usual suspects', wasn't it?"

"I have already summoned the NIS. Soon, we will find out their names, addresses, parents' occupation..."

"The National Intelligence Service? Dear, don't you think that is taking it too far?"

"I want those people as far away from my daughter as possible. They sold pictures of her to the press. I want to avoid the worst they could do. She is the future head of this country. She needs to learn to behave."

"I doubt getting her married will fix it."

"She left me no choice."

As he walked over to the sofa next to the armchair Hera was sitting on, his wife handed him a cup of coffee. Black. No sugar. He never had any sweetenings with his coffee.

"Marrying her off to Quasimodo is not the best solution either," Hera said as she herself took a sip of her tea.

"Don't call him that!"

Hera did not reply. Neither she nor her husband were calm enough to have that kind of conversation. But Zeus did not like to leave his business unfinished.

"I am aware of his parentage. And his deformities. His medical history... Everything has been taken into consideration."

"Think of the Greeks! I doubt they would like to see Aphrodite married to someone whose great-grandparents were siblings and second cousins..."

"Those were different times."

"But it is nowadays that we see the results."

Zeus listened to Hera numbering all of Hephaestus' faults, starting from his trouble walking. He had to use a stick, even though he was young. He wore gloves to hide a deformity in his hands - the remnant of an old accident in his father's factory - and, most likely, he could not have children.

"Or if he does, they might inherit the troubled gene. He is, after all, the product of incest," Hera added.

"His grandfather was fine. Same for his mother. They are healthy."

"But he is not."

Zeus was getting impatient: "Enough already, woman!"

Hera set her cup on the table. The handle was facing her husband, a way of telling him to mind his words. She left once, she could do it again.

"What I am worried about, dearest," she furthered, "is Aphrodite's reaction when she sees him. You know what she can do when she is displeased."

"Which is why I asked the NIS to take the necessary measures."

Hera didn't respond. Zeus kept talking about his plans for the engagement announcement, how it should be fabricated so that it does not appear rushed, make people not question the motives behind the match... Perhaps Hera could arrange all of it?

"You do not understand," she finally said. "People will talk. They do like gossip. Yes, you want the money and Hephaestus' father wants the status. But when it comes to me giving my permission to this marriage, I will have to say no. I do apologize. But the prospect of the two together disgusts me."

"Well, that's bad," Zeus replied.

The way he uttered these words made Hera realize that Zeus had made up his mind. Yet, she was shocked by what he revealed next:

"He had asked for a private audience two weeks ago. Informally asked me for her hand in marriage. I gave him my blessing."

And it was her duty, as his wife and Queen, to consent to every single one of His Majesty's wishes.

* * *

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB  
_

I suppose it's time to tell you the reason Hera made me go on this big tour. I don't know how she found out, since I made sure that all parties involved don't reveal the secret, but here comes the apocalypse: the King wanted me to do something I would never consent to, like set me up with a foreign prince who was way down the line of succession in his home country or the son of one of Hera's second cousins because they are the ones with money. After I told him I disagreed with the prospect, he cut off my allowance for three months by keeping my appanage for himself. In revenge, I slept with two of his bodyguards. The first one on a Monday, the second one on a Wednesday. Even I need a day's rest occasionally.

Long story short, somehow, Hera found out and kept staring at me as if I was Al Capone and she was the whole of the FBI personified. Honestly, if she looks at all of Zeus' one-night-stands and mistresses in the same way, no wonder the poor women disappear without a trace.

Anyway, she came up with the idea that I should go on this big tour and take Zeus' Greek friends and supporters - shipowners, financiers, Wall Street magnates, Secret Service agents etc - by my side. (No, I did not sleep with them, although, by the way they looked at me, they wished I would). By making them see me, see the interest I had in the Greek diaspora making it big abroad and not paying taxes to their own home country, I could make them side with me. In return, they could convince Zeus that I was ready to take over from him. It's an odd plan, because Hera loves being Queen more than anyone - and frankly, can don a tiara like no one else - but I went ahead with it.

Then, somehow, I happened on Ares, who was on a break from his military career and, well, we hit it off.

I don't worry about the bodyguards speaking up. They're fired and most probably live in Timbuktu now (thanks, Hera's glare). But I am really, really worried about Zeus finding out about me and Ares... Yes, I know, we're related by law. I don't even know why I did it because it crossed a moral line for me and those are dangerous when trespassed. But I couldn't resist. Call it exhaustion from the tour, thirst for adventure, the music, the dancing, the drinking, him in a suit, us both going incognito...

I crossed that invisible moral line. And enjoyed every second of it.

To my unborn grandchildren: no, I won't become an ordinary grandmother who knits sweaters and socks all day. You outgrow them with the speed of light. And yes, I have lived my life. How about you?


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This chapter gave me hell to write... I had to write the Aphrodite scenes over and over because I could not find enough material on the behind the scenes of a political figure's public appearances, but then I guess that's what imagination is here for... I also suffered a very bad case of writer's block - the kind where you just know what to write overall, but whatever you put down on paper sucks each time.**

 **Here are two trigger warnings: 1) mention of homosexuality in the first scene and 2) some M-rated stuff halfway through the chapter (but not too much of a lemon).**

 **Also, the names of the palaces, places and political events are real (because that's how inspired I am). I could not find much on the actual former Greek royal family, at least compared to other 'current' royal families (Greece was a monarchy until 1975), because they are a bit of a taboo for the Greek media, or have been until recently, but I know that they possessed a lot of residences and hardly used most of them (one of the many reasons people didn't like them apparently). Their summer residence was the Palace of Tatoi (pronounced Ta-toy) which is in Northern Attica. Attica is the region of Greece where Athens is also located. Tatoi has also been the subject of much dispute between the former GRF and the Greek state and apparently it is going to be turned into a museum now. Tatoi is now abandoned and it was clearly not renovated in 1996, but I'm playing with the what-ifs quite a lot in this story, so yeah. Also: 3.5 billion drachmas in the 1990s amounts to about 10 million euros or 11.5 million dollars in today's money. I don't even know if the costs would be higher, I ain't an expert on renovations and old palaces...**

 **OK I shut up with the fun facts. Happy reading :)**

* * *

 _26 November 2006_

 _Royal Palace_

Hera was far from pleased with the turn of events, but there was one positive outcome. The current circumstances allowed to put her plan in action. Now, that Zeus was busier taking care of Aphrodite's 'usual suspects' and worrying about the low approval ratings of the current Conservative administration.

Aphrodite's picture fiasco had been taken care of, so neither the King nor the Queen bothered with it anymore. Once again, Hera had remained on the sidelines, watching the men take matters in their own hands. The Prime Minister had officially put an end to the scandal before it went out of hand. With an impromptu speech in Parliament, he declared that the issue was a personal one and he described the Crown Princess as the victim of a very bad situation. Zeus had punished her by increasing her workload. Not surprisingly, he was following his advisers' suggestion. They all believed that the busier the Crown Princess was kept, the less likely she was to come up with another devious plan. Thus, Zeus had plenty of time to think of ways to get Aphrodite and Hephaestus to meet each other without people noticing. If Aphrodite's good looks during her royal engagements did not work their magic for long, surely her betrothal could provide the gossip-hungry media with plenty of new material to report on and rumors to come up with.

But Hera would not get involved. Aphrodite had dealt with scandal in the past and she could easily find her own way out of it.

 _Unlike her father…_

The humiliation had gone on for long enough. It was only natural that Hera would want to get it over and done with as soon as possible. She could not stand knowing that, for yet another day, her husband's latest lover and the reason she had disappeared for three months was well within reach and she was unable to do something about it.

She had given Zeus plenty of time to do so himself. Apparently, he had not thought about their marriage or cared about the years they had spent together and the four children they had raised. He had apologized plenty of times, yes, but in the past, he had the decency to be honest. When she had confronted him about his latest "mischief" three months ago, he had uttered the words she had heard a thousand times before without really meaning them. Just out of civic duty, like an old habit that dies hard.

Perhaps, she realized, her long absence had made things worse. Instead of forcing Zeus to put an end to it himself, it had encouraged him to continue his disgusting, obscure affair right under everyone's noses. Including their own children's.

All the previous times she had to confront Zeus about his philandering, to help him clean up his mess, had been preferable to the current situation.

At least, all the other times - unpleasant and hurtful as they might have been - the 'other person' had been a woman.

The King's latest conquest had been a man barely out of his boyhood. Old enough to be his son. Trained as a footman at the Palace.

Yet, that was not what hurt the most. If she had loved her husband like she used to, if she had not blamed herself for being a fool to stay, or if she had found another way to make him see what he had, what she could provide him with, what she had given him, or what he had given her, it would have hurt worse.

She was thankful for Zeus' discretion for once. Their disgusting affair had been going on for three months before Hera had found out. Still. Every time she thought about that boy - Ganymede - and her husband, her hands would tremble and she would feel nauseous. But try as she might, she had no idea which aspect of this sordid tale had been the worst for her to endure. Knowing that, despite spending almost three decades with him, the man she had married was a total stranger? The fact that he had not knelt before her, hugging her legs and crying like a baby, as he had always done in the past, to a time when he would have felt ever the slightest sense of guilt? Or that their own daughter had been the one to reveal her father's secret?

Eris, her eldest, had told her the very same night she had found out herself. She had brought along a glass of whiskey. Hera had never been much of a drinker, unless she was upset. Over the years, it had become a secret code among the Palace staffers. Seeing the Queen with a bottle of whiskey had been the proof that the King had "messed up". But it was preferable to breaking things. Everything in their lives - from their residences to the decorations and their cars - were public property. Even their own lives did not belong to them. Their roles outshone their individual personalities. No one asked their own opinion or cared about their feelings. If they displayed either one in public, a scandal would erupt, speculations would arise, and the future of the Monarchy would be put at stake.

As long as Hera was the most important woman in the country, she would not allow that to happen. No matter her distress, she would have to be the one to keep the Crown out of danger. Whatever it took.

It had been Zeus' fault that they had ended up like that. She had been crashed to find out he had fathered children with some of his mistresses, but she had persisted he had acknowledged them, that he had taken responsibility for his actions. Somehow, her persistence for him being honest with himself secured his place on the throne. People liked him for declaring that his reign would be transparent, with nothing hidden from the public. Yet, no one cared that she cried herself to sleep at night.

Was she in a different position, married into a different family, she would have followed Dione's lead and divorced him. She would have given him the freedom to go on with his life and she would have not allowed an institution to overshadow her own happiness. She had realized her mistake many years ago. She had been naive to believe that he would have changed after his divorce from Dione and Athena's role in it.

Eris, too, had suggested that Hera separated from Zeus, even in secret. As always, her eldest daughter wanted chaos to ensue. "Everyone's true colours hide behind the mask we call modesty", she would say. Hera was more diplomatic, having developed that skill over the years. There was no other way for her to thrive in her role if she had not known when and how to keep her mouth shut.

She brought her hand to her forehead. She was tired, even though it was still morning.

"Mother?" Eris, sitting opposite her in the Large Salon, asked. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Hera replied, regaining her composure. "I do apologize."

"What shall we do about… that boy?"

Hera cleared her throat and regained her composure. She had come up with her plan in Corfu and had figured it out in as much detail as possible. The turn of events worked in her favor. They would make its execution far easier than she had initially imagined.

"Make sure that everyone knows he is stealing things from the Palace. Small and insignificant ones at first, but after a couple of weeks, they become bigger. Property of the state. Subtly. You know you ought not to be too obvious. Make sure the King hears the gossip as well. As soon as the King confronts me about it, I shall fire him. If we are lucky enough, he might get exiled from Attica, if not the country."

Eris was listening intently, not taking any notes, for fear of them being found out. Both women knew that they would be rid of him soon enough. He was young, naive, possibly a social climber… His gender worked to their advantage. If he revealed his story to the press, like many of Zeus' past mistresses had done, the King's long history of womanizing would be the only and strongest proof against him.

Still, they both knew that the rumors would never go away. But Zeus had made his own bed, and now he would lie on it. Alone.

Hera would continue to do her duty. She did call him 'darling' and 'dearest' when they were on their own, just to make any eavesdropping staffers and courtiers stop gossiping. She would continue to walk a few steps behind him (literally and metaphorically), support him in his role and be married to him, despite the humiliation she had to endure.

Queen Consorts had been doing so for ages, after all.

* * *

At first, I was too tired, I was bored as well. Kept thinking I could never keep up with my royal self. But then I spent a night out and all hell suddenly broke loose. And I grew strong. And I was forced to get along. And now I'm back. From outer space.

That's it. That's the most creative I can be on a Sunday morning. The actual song is stuck in my head now, thank you very much. But! It is only a reminder. I will survive. I'm exhausted, about to fall into pieces, I have had such an awful bunch of martini and vodka pick-me-ups that I will likely end up a borderline alcoholic by the time I am forty (unless I already am but didn't realize yet), but I will survive.

It is only for two weeks, after all. Fourteen days filled with engagements, walkabouts, audiences, luncheons, dinners, speeches, interviews, statements, plaque unveilings, outfit changes, and the next time someone accuses me of not working hard enough for the country should take a look at my schedule. I'm looking at you, Mr. Big Boss. Apparently, he thought that after I had spent six months of being in the spotlight for up to eighteen hours on a daily basis, I would be energetic enough to pull off fifteen-hour-days for the next two weeks - if I behave. What can I say? Bless the chocolate. Sugar and cocoa are the only reasons I am still standing, frankly.

Remember the pictures of me dancing in a nightclub? Yes, turns out they had been much ado about nothing. Some MPs did protest, which is basically all they can do well, but one of the Palace's press secretaries came up with the story that those were old pictures of mine - taken during a summer holiday last year - and had been released to the press as blackmail because I had refused to hire someone in an important position after they had asked about it over and over. Apparently, Zeus Almighty hires smart people now.

Here are the last two days summed up: everyone in the Palace panicked and treated me as though I would be the death of the Monarchy; the media treated me as if I had committed a cardinal sin (although the gossip shows cashed in quite a lot from talking about me); and my mother kept calling me from New York in the early morning hours (U.S time) to encourage me not to worry. To quote her, "They survived your father for twenty years. You are better looking." Plus, I did not diddle anyone out of any throne, have not given birth to any illegitimate children whilst being married to someone else, and have a better fashion sense than Daddy Dearest. Besides, I was born into a family that threw me into a situation I desperately wanted out of until I turned eighteen and had my investiture ceremony. Admit it, I am irresistible.

So, the picture fiasco may be over for the world, but I am still in hot water. Hence why I need to have the stamina of a superhero to get me through the day.

It is already ten o'clock in the morning and I am in my fourth engagement. I had to wake up at six to get ready and in the right place on time. Who knew, Athens is one big, wide mess.

First thing I had to do was visit a dog shelter in the suburbs, where I spoke about the importance of adoption (Blanche, too, is a rescue dog). Then I had to inaugurate a new cultural center in Athens - one of the many - and unveil a plaque that wrote, _The present building was inaugurated by H.R.H. Crown Princess Aphrodite of Greece on Sunday, 26 November 2006_. My third engagement was a visit to the headquarters of the Make-A-Wish foundation, to which I was also a patron and a goodwill ambassador, to arrange my meeting with a bunch of young girls who wanted to be princesses for a day. It had been an idea I had had since before the big tour, but it had to be postponed because of it. Since it was nearly December, if we could hurry up, we could make this dream come true for the little ones just in time for New Year's. A splendid gift, wouldn't you agree? There were no journalists involved in this one, but my picture still had to be taken. More than once. Fourth and last engagement for the morning bunch of responsibilities: open an exhibition in the National Gallery about the depiction of women in Greek art. The third and fourth ones were in my schedule anyway, and the National Gallery one had been publicized for months in advance. They had turned to me because they also display a few nudes, and rumor has it they are too shocking for the King and the Queen, yet proper enough for me to handle.

As you can imagine, I do not travel in those events on my own. I still don't have a driver's license since I first told you so. But even if I did, I would still be driven around. Me and the band. The whole entourage. Otherwise known as a motorcade. We make the perfect advertisement for luxury SUVs. First, one belonging to the Greek police - complete with police officers - to make way through the traffic. Then my own SUV with blackout windows containing me, my three ladies-in-waiting (I keep forgetting about them), the driver, and another security officer and a last one, which does not belong to to the police but still has a siren because you never know, containing my own two security officers and my aides. Considering that, normally, I do not bother the police, yes, it is a bit over the top and I believe that, wasn't it for the picture fiasco, or the King's popularity reaching a new low and my approval ratings going sky-high after I "refused" to do a "political" favor, security around me would not be as tight. But, it is all in a day's work.

The minute we arrive, I am helped out of the car by the guy hired to spy on me. I finally get someone gentlemanly enough to open the door for me and I cannot marry him because he's a creep and he is working for the family, so it's unethical as well. I am greeted by quite the crowd of royalists - and some random, curious people - and all want to take a look at me. See if I'm as pretty as in the pictures or as tall as they had speculated. After all, I have to be seen to be believed.

Then comes the usual walkabout. This is the part where I have to greet the crowds and talk to the people. Or some of them, because of lack of time. The King and the Queen insist I pick someone random – who preferably doesn't look like a serial killer - but I prefer talking to the young children and the old people. Those are the ones who get tired the most easily. Little girls often hand me small flower bouquets and drawings they made out of pictures of me they had seen in the magazines. I can't count the times they have told me I look like their Barbie either. A seven-year-old actually once told me I had better hair than her doll and to this day, it remains one of the best compliments I've ever received. The bravest ones give me a hug. Or, if they are shy, sucking their thumb or hiding behind their parents, I am the one to hug and talk to them. It is uncalled for that I do so, yet it would be worse if I just left them feeling uncomfortable and overwhelmed. Same for old people. The ladies also come bearing flowers, and they always wish me well. Some even give me their blessing or constantly remind me how pretty I look. Just like that. Women in their seventies and eighties are wonderful. They no longer worry about people's opinion, so they just express their thoughts freely. If only men in their thirties could make compliments as confidently as elderly women, the world would be a much better place.

As you would expect, I received my fair share of drawings and bouquets this time too. I hand the sketches to my ladies-in-waiting who store them carefully in the folders they are holding. I am such a nice person that I also give them most of the bouquets I was handed as well, because, well, I do need a free hand to wave and to make the necessary signals to my team.

There are a few journalists there too, of course. Discreet as always, they keep shouting my name and asking me random questions, most of them about the pictures. I simply avoid them. I will only make a statement - a small speech which I had memorized - about the exhibition and perhaps spice it up with a personal comment that will be both politically neutral and PR-positive. But if they came to ask about my personal matters, then sorry, guys, I am too good for you.

Once I climb the stairs of the gallery, I am welcomed by the president, who presents me with yet another bunch of flowers. Good thing I am not allergic to them. I hand everything to an overwhelmed poor aide standing nearby. Don't call me a snob, the bouquet is enormous and he was the only one left with his hands empty. Then the president, a tall, stern but likable woman in her mid-sixties, begins to guide me through the exhibition. For the next hour, I will simply look at drawings and listen to the stories behind every single one of them, the symbolism they hide, the artistic movement they belong in, the painter's style and their relationship with the theme of the painting. Those are actually the kind of engagements I enjoy the most. Athena may have a reputation for being the intellectual of the family, but ask me something - anything - about art and I know the answer. Art history has always been one of my favorite subjects, after all. Who doesn't like looking at pictures or any other kinds of works of art and finding out the story behind them?

(By the way, "you look like a work of art" is not a good one-liner. Men overuse it to the point when it's no longer interesting anymore. And you thought you were the only ones attracting the worst flatterers.)

I am certain that my appearance surprised some people. If not most of them. Pretty sure they had expected me to show up in a pair of low-waist trousers, or even a mini dress. Truth is, I don't really stick to the royal protocol about fashion as much as other women do, unless it is an official occasion. But surely, me in a knee-length, long-sleeved, not-at-all-revealing black dress and purple coat makes for a pleasant sight. I also chose not to overdo it with the jewelery. I only wore the golden and green sapphire butterfly earrings that used to belong to Queen Rhea and which date back to the 1970s. This whole appearance actually leaves little space for people's criticisms (here's looking at you, conservative, misogynistic journalists!) and since I need to look as if I take myself seriously for once, I chose to draw attention to my next most important attribute - my hair. Lifestyle magazines, fashion experts, stylists, hairstylists, women my age, older and younger ones alike, even little children, seem to love them. I think I read somewhere that it even had its own fan club. What can I say, having an excellent hair-and-make-up team at your disposition pays off apparently. Or even a maid that is a trained hair stylist. Or it's the genes. Or the hair products. See, I don't even know what the fuss with it is, and I am its rightful owner! And it used to be awfully long - down to the waist - until a few years ago, because it made for impressive tiara hair. But I got headaches often, so I cut it and now it's a couple of inches longer than shoulder length. Long enough to look pretty but short enough to be convenient.

In any case, I dress the part. If it is a Crown Princess they want, it is a Crown Princess they will get.

* * *

 _Alexandroupoli, Northern Greece_

 _Army base_

He only got news on her from the radio. " _Crown Princess Aphrodite will travel to Thessaloniki this evening. She will visit the Science Center and Technology Museum, the Archaeological Museum and the old Jewish neighborhoods, as well as the Muslim areas. The same evening, she will also attend the closing ceremony of the 47th Thessaloniki International Film Festival._ " Then the presenter went about saying which roads would be closed, where the crowds could gather to get a glimpse of her, and other details he did not give a damn about.

Something else was troubling him. He wanted to see her. He _had_ to. But he was no fool. She was surrounded by aides, security around her was tight, photographers and TV crews would follow her every step. Besides, he was still on duty. He couldn't afford to go AWOL, the risk was too great. For everyone. Himself, his parents, her… He was a Prince too, after all, a servant to his country. He could not just show up without people getting suspicious. They would question him showing up unexpectedly. And there was also her own reaction to think of. Would she get mad, ask him to leave, or would she put on a brave face, smile to the cameras, be her perfect self and then go ahead with her schedule, pushing him aside?

So many questions to ask, so little time.

He knew where she'd be spending the night and he had every right to be there as well. But Alexandroupoli was three driving hours away from Thessaloniki and he could not just run away without going to prison. Neither did he have an excuse good enough to take a leave of absence for the rest of the day and the following one. He couldn't say it was an emergency either. The only thing that could count as such up there was either Turks trespassing the border or them invading the country.

Yet the more he toyed with the idea, the more tempting it became. He knew it'd put him and his parents in trouble. But not her, she had no idea.

Should he go AWOL? She was definitely worth it. Hell, he shouldn't be having such thoughts about her. She was his sister, for heaven's sake! They were legally related, bound together by his adoption certificate. That god-damned piece of paper that had given him all the privileges in the world! Which, at the same time, kept him from conquering the one castle he had always wanted to claim. He had watched her from afar all these years - how she had gone from the little girl in pink to the lady in red. As a teenager, he had had inappropriate thoughts about her, but he never dared admit them to himself, out of shame and of fear that his parents might suspect something. He had kept his feelings under wraps for years. Until one night, almost two months ago, the cat was finally out of the box.

He had recognized her. At first glance, even with her wearing the huge, Venetian-inspired mask. She was speaking English with a heavy French accent and was going by a French-sounding alias. Whatever it took for her to go unnoticed. He didn't have that kind of issues. After all, she was the most famous princess in the world and he looked like yet another rich guy. No one knew or could suspect that he was a prince. He offered her her favourite drink and she had lured him to the dance floor. Both of them were drunk - enough for them to flirt without minding appearances and legal relationships, yet not so much that they forgot who their partner was. Or who they, themselves, were.

Before he knew it, their bodies were so close that he felt his pants getting tighter. She didn't help at all. What to others sounded like yet another pop song at high-end London nightclub, for them became the scorpion dance - the back-and-forth steps, the forceful choreography they did while mating. Sometimes, they used their poisonous stings too. And, god, did she just know how to use hers. Soon enough he was hoping, wishing that they would find themselves in an empty room, with plenty of space for them to explore each other until the sun would rise and she would have to go. She would certainly be the first to leave. She had a schedule to stick to and four hundred people to make sure she was in the right place at the right time.

Yet, for the life of him, he could not tell how they escaped her bodyguards, managed to sneak into a hotel decent enough for their privacy to be kept, and he let her use her dance on him into a room that stunk of cheap wine, old wood and a worn-out carpet. Heavens, she was a wildcat! She'd be in control the one minute and give him hell the next, making him the dominant in their mating. Many other women had come before her, yet none had less constraints - or more control - over him than his own adoptive half-sister. She knew what her powers were and how to use them. He felt intimidated by her expertise - he was a man, two years older than her and with more independence. Where did she meet all these men that had taught her those tricks? That had made her feel comfortable in her own skin? That had turned her into the best lover he had ever had - and he was not easily pleased. Aroused, yes, and always reaching climax. But he was never pleased the next morning, either with himself or with the woman by his side. Or confused. Or exhausted. And he had never, ever, begged for more.

She knew that she had conquered him. Body, mind, and soul. Her smile when they were done betrayed her real feelings. The way she looked at him, the way she grinned, with her lips closed, made him hate her that very moment. Like he had never detested anyone before in his life. She had won; both of them knew; if he dared invite her to another battle, he'd come out as the loser again. The look in her eyes said so. And as he watched her getting dressed the following morning - the blond curls falling like waterfall on her white skin, the red bruise low on her waist, the mark on her left upper thigh where he had bit her - he felt both proud of himself and utterly humiliated. Proud because he knew, no matter the men that had come before and that would come after him, that she was his and his alone. And humiliated because he had betrayed all the values he was bound to serve. _Defend the honor of your sisters_ , society would say. _Don't make the same mistakes I made_ , his father would insist. _Respect your future queen_ , everyone (from the Palace and the Greek people to his superiors in the military) would remind him. And she? She was just doing what she did best. Giving orders. Having him eat out of her hand. She had begged him - ordered him - to hurt her, to make her feel the worst pain she had ever felt in the arms of a man, to claim her as his own territory but without the rest of the world knowing. He had done a good job. There were scars on her back and bruises in all the right places - where she'd feel the most pleasure, yet safely keep them away from the prying eyes of the world. After she was fully dressed, she wouldn't turn to look at him. She, too, was humiliated. He was her adoptive brother, after all. One of her future subjects.

Both of them were selfish enough not to admit, to each other and to themselves, that they had crossed the line and enjoyed every damn second of it. Yet, as she walked out of that hotel room, hair askew, the dress only a reminiscent of its former, proud, regal self, she did say one last thing: "Next time, it is you who takes the bow."

He knew then, that time was still far away. And now, as he watched the treetops outside the gates of the base, the sky, and the clouds, he wondered if she was worth giving it a try. He would get in trouble, face backlash from the media and his parents would likely refuse to give him his appanage to teach him a lesson. So, was she truly worth it?

 _Yeah_ , a voice inside him would say. _She is - she's the best thing that has ever happened to you. Admit it._

But he wouldn't. He was too selfish to let a woman make him fall to his knees - literally and metaphorically. He could remember her soft, dominant, yet demanding touch on his skin. He could still hear her breathing as she begged for more. He still remembered the vengeance as he took her for the first time, then the inexplicable desire to keep it up. Again. And again. Until neither of them could take it anymore.

Heck yeah, she was worth it. All that, and heaven too.

* * *

List of (almost) all the people that have seen me naked: my mother, the doctors the day I was born, my gynecologist, every single man I have bedded (I could provide names, ages, and home addresses, but it would take forever), and the people in the staff toilet with me. Luckily for my reputation, they are all women. My dresser, her two assistants and my ladies-in-waiting, also known as 'The Three Graces', or - simply - the women that make sure I am never late.

All the men that came with me are playing the watchdog right behind the door. Which is not locked, in case they hear a sound and need to storm in. Hopefully, I'll be fully dressed by then. Otherwise, the Big Boss might yet again accuse me of being incompetent and prolong the torture for two more weeks. A month even. I hope that proposal for me to become a Bond Girl still stands because I will need a job in case the circus that is Father's brain ends up firing me. This is not possible, of course, but it is a good alternative to him driving me crazy.

In case you are wondering what I am doing in there: no, I am not planning world domination. Neither am I being thoroughly checked for carrying any inflammatory stuff. With all the attention I get and the constant care my outfits are given, discovering something dangerous on me would be the eighth wonder of the world.

Unless my dresser, who has been working for me since I was fifteen, no longer likes me. She and her assistants entered through the back door during my private tour, carrying a suit cover, a shoe box, a jewelery box, and a suitcase containing undergarments. True story. When I need to change an outfit, I have to take it from the inside out. I have two or three pairs of underwear for each of my day outfits and evening gowns. Yes, every single one. All custom made. Don't ask.

The Little Black Dress and the Purple Coat were my morning outfit and now it is midday. They had been worn for long enough. Now, it is time for me to change into a fuchsia pantsuit with a black blouse, black long earrings, and black high heels. Complete with a messy bun and a different make-up. My dresser takes care of the pantsuit, her assistants of the hair and the make-up each, and one of my ladies-in-waiting hands me a bottle of water. Hydration is a must on busy days. I will go straight to the Royal Palace, where I have three upcoming audiences. One with the president of a foundation I am to become the honorary chair of, another with a bunch of high school students who won a European award and the third with a women's organization to discuss ways of raising awareness on sexual abuse in the workplace. Coming up next is the private luncheon with the German ambassador and his wife. Apparently, the German elections for the new Chancellor are taking place today.

Matter of fact, the different outfits is the most fun I will have today. There is no surprise there since they had been decided two weeks in advance. All by Greek fashion houses. It's also part of my duties, that I promote my country's fashion. Not all of them are bad, really. Sadly, the good ones are few in number and are often based abroad. So practically, I am currently wearing a pantsuit that is a British extraction, although it was designed by a Greek working in L.A. Diversity or what?

Just for the record - when it comes to official duties, I may also wear foreign fashion houses. It is rather a sign of diplomatic goodwill when I am in a foreign country. I can wear Chanel in France, Kors in the U.S., Valentino in Italy… Whatever can be useful. Or I mix. Gowns by non-Greeks, accessories by Greeks. A bit of a salad never hurt anyone, as far as I am concerned. I am aware that this is not how the rules normally go, but as long as fashion is used diplomatically - and officials in the Government have no sense of style - I can get away with it.

You might be wondering, why go all that fuss when I could have changed in the hotel I am staying in, or even the Palace? First: too little time. Second: it's a Sunday, the hotel is packed, no one knows I am staying there except for my family and the Palace staff. Besides, on days like these, I usually leave through the back door, which means I have to go through the kitchens and the weekends are their busiest days. As you can guess, my perfume can either be Miss Dior or parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. Not all of them at once. Third: after I had moved out of the Palace, Eris moved into what used to be my own bedchamber because Hera had just given birth to Hebe at the time and they had needed a spare room to turn into the nursery. My own room would have been more than happy to accommodate a newborn whose only reason of existence is to be used as a cover for the falsity that is her parents' marriage. But Hera's constantly constipated-looking double of a daughter had other ideas. Whatever. I get better food. And my very own massage room, which the Palace cannot provide its residents with.

Thinking about it, public toilets are not the oddest place I have used for a costume change. Flying airplanes, moving cars and stopped elevators are up for the win. Perhaps, if they had made an Olympic sport out of it, I would have my own chance of becoming an Olympic champion. Or just give me the gold already. I don't care.

So, once Dark Lady turns into Pink Martini, I am ready to hit the road again. The motorcade is still where I left it. Same for the crowds, which proved my theory once again - us royals are like the Acropolis. Always there for the world to see, yet constantly out of reach.

The crowds do look surprised at my new outfit, and once again, it is the same drill: cameras flashing, hands clapping, some flag waving, journalists shouting… My team is walking two steps behind me while my bodyguards are on each side - as usual. I would have loved to spend another ten minutes chatting with the people, turning down photo requests (we are not allowed to take pictures with the crowds during walkabouts) and receiving more drawings and bouquets. But if I dared be five minutes late, chaos would ensue. Which means I would have to endure the same old lecture by Zeus Almighty: "You are the future head of state, you ought to behave as such, and you have a bunch of people making sure you are there on time but you still have to pretend you are a national treasure!"

Sorry to disappoint you, Father, but I already am. And you kept promoting me as such since before I was born.

Besides, the worst thing I could do to him would be a nude photo shoot. He'd have four hundred strokes, three thousand heart attacks and want to kill me. In that order. But that kind of publicity is strictly out of the question for our kind.

As soon as the SUV, along with the rest of the motorcade, is driving away, one of my ladies turns to me to remind me of my schedule. She often repeats it so many times that I can hear it in my sleep. Which I have. More than once.

"Following your lunch with the German ambassador, you will have to change into outfit number ten" (yes, they come with code numbers). "You will fly to Thessaloniki with the Royal Helicopter which His Majesty has asked to be prepared especially for you" (how nice of him). "Once you land, you will be greeted by the mayor, make some joint public statements, and he will accompany you to the museums and the neighborhoods you have to go to. You will then be driven to Palataki, where you will rest and have dinner before heading to the closing ceremony of the International Film Festival. Your dress and your accessories are already flying there, as are your maids. You will stay there overnight and the next day you have to attend other engagements, but the schedule is yet to take its final form."

Greek organization at its best. The trip to Thessaloniki - the largest city in Northern Greece and the second largest in the country after Athens - was originally supposed to be carried out by the Queen. But, since she has my father to deal with, and I have a mess to clear, I am stepping into her shoes and she will remain in Athens, probably planning her revenge over whatever her darling husband has done this time. Although it is less stressful to welcome the Crown Princess than the Queen, I bet the organizers must love us… Each of our public appearances is planned thoroughly three months in advance and then there comes the King's private secretary (number whatever), to tell them that their guest of honor will not be who they had been expecting all along but someone of a lower rank. Well, I guess I'm up for the queenly treatment for once.

As for Palataki - meaning Small Palace - it is actually a two-story red neoclassical mansion, built on a hill right by the sea (the most perfect sea view you will ever see on the mainland), dating back to the 1950s. It was originally meant to be the official residence of the Minister of Northern Greece (yes, some of the country's ministries are divided by region), but which became another royal palace some ten years later. But because we don't travel there often, the previous socialist government had believed that the maintenance costs were too high for it to accommodate just us for only four times a year, and they had suggested it was turned into a museum or to go back into being the official ministerial residence. Zeus Almighty complained, said Palataki belonged to the Royal Family since another administration had given it to them as a gift (true story) and, to sum things up, they finally reached a compromise: its official owner is the Ministry of Macedonia and Thrace, which also undertakes most of the maintenance costs. The Royal Family would have to pay rent if we stayed there for more than a week on end, and the exterior, as well as certain rooms on the ground floor could be used for exhibitions and the like, while the second floor remained locked. But not while the Royal Family was staying there.

If that does not sum up our relationship with the politicians down to a T, I don't know what does.

* * *

 _Palace of Tatoi, Acharnes, East Attica_

It had been Zeus' idea to invite Hephaestus to a private dinner at the Palace of Tatoi. What used to be the family's primary summer residence had become the King's childhood home - it was there that he lived with his parents and four siblings until Cronus and Rhea ascended the throne and moved to the Royal Palace when he was seven.

This vast estate, located twenty-seven kilometers north from the center of Athens and spreading over ten thousand acres, was divided into two sections. The first one was the Palace, built in 1884, which also had the Royal Cemetery, a swimming pool, a tennis court, a helipad, a private parking for the limousines, a cinema and a vast garden, including a small forest. The second one, which also provided job to dozens of people, included, among others, a hotel (which was closed down in the 1930s), the stables, the warehouses where they kept the royal carriages, a small steel factory, farms producing dairy products and wine, a house for the Royal Guard working at the Palace, and a small village, where the farmers and the other employees at the estate and the Palace lived in. The products of Tatoi were consumed both by the Royal Family and the villagers, as well as being sold at grocery stores. The prestige of the royal seal had contributed to them being classified as products of high quality.

The Palace itself was far from being considered an ideal royal residence. Despite the many opportunities for sports and entertainment it provided the Royal Family with, it was not very luxurious. In fact, it was considered rather plain compared to its European counterparts, despite the heavy furniture, the portraits of their ancestors hanging from the walls, and other precious items, most of which belonged to the state. But that was not the only issue they had to deal with. Zeus could still remember how scared Rhea had been the day she had turned on the fountain in the bathroom to find insects coming out of it instead of water.

But all of it belonged to the past. In 1996, Zeus had announced his wish to renovate the Palace and he had done so thoroughly. First, the water tubes were replaced with more modern ones, to give them a better supply of clean water; central heating was installed; the kitchens were replaced with modern, electric ones; the interior decoration was thoroughly changed; the portraits were restored back to their former glory; and bullet-proof windows were installed all over the residence. The entire renovation cost about 3,5 billion drachmas to the Greek people, and there were many complaints, both from the Government and the public, about the Royal Family's expenses. Other than a slight increase in the taxes for two years following the renovation and the increased price in the products of Tatoi sold at supermarkets nation-wide, Zeus got away with it easily. Still, to keep the renovation costs as low as possible, he had refused to change the furniture in certain rooms. His study and the dining room, for instance, remained as they were, other than the restoration of the furniture and a new colour on the walls.

It was in this very room where Zeus was enjoying a glass of wine, ready to welcome his future son-in-law. Tatoi was the perfect place for this kind of meeting, since it was away from Hera's piercing stare. He had told her where he had gone, of course. She wouldn't want him to believe he was back on his "adventures", as they called it, and have another fit of rage. As far as the Queen was concerned, Zeus was having lunch with some ministers of the Government. Nothing official, just him being more thoroughly informed on state affairs. He felt guilty about lying to her, but this little white lie was merely a drop in the ocean of all the things he had done to her over the years.

Hephaestus had arrived right on schedule, much to Zeus' joy. Punctuality had always been one of the qualities he admired the most in a person. As King, he had also made a reputation for himself for always arriving on time, be it an official event or a simple engagement. The two men would enjoy a two-course meal: just the main course and the dessert. Hephaestus had to watch his weight. Doctor's orders.

When he saw him enter the room, Zeus thought that Hera's description was right. He did resemble Quasimodo a bit. Not in the face, for Hephaestus was better looking. The beard he had grown lately hid the awful birth marks on his chin and lower cheeks, that had looked like burns that still had not fully recovered. Nevertheless, this thirty-year-old man, who was using a walking stick, his left leg was longer than the right one, and who, from the way he held his body, would surely end up a hunchback in a few years, was far from the idea everyone had of the consort of a future monarch. Especially if that heiress to the throne was Aphrodite...

But Hera was right. He had been the poor one to pay for his ancestors' incestuous affair. Years of maltreatment from his own parents also led to his walking issues. Hephaestus had told him that they had despised him for his bad looks. Yet, he had a few strong assets, which Zeus needed. The wealth the Royal Family lacked, a good reputation, and the decency to ask for Aphrodite's hand in marriage. It was too tempting an offer for the King to resist.

During dinner, they spoke about pretty much everything – from politics and sports to the weather. By the time they had reached the "necessary" - as Zeus had jokingly put it - coffee after the dessert (they called it that even though both of them had a glass of whiskey, which made Zeus like Hephaestus a little bit more), they went down to business. Zeus, as always, opened the conversation:

"Well, son! You do not mind me calling you that."

"No, Your Majesty," Hephaestus replied. "Not at all!"

Zeus noticed the way he was addressed: "I see you already forgot that little notice on the protocol sheet."

Hephaestus looked bewildered, which made Zeus rush to explain: "A plain _sir_ would do."

"Pardon, Your Maj- I mean, Sir!"

With a simple hand notion, Zeus reassured him it was all right.

"Now, neither the Queen nor the Crown Princess were very pleased with the prospect of your engagement," he added, taking a sip of his drink. "But they will get used to it. Both of them. You know what women are like. They want to have a say in every single thing. They like having the upper hand. As the ancient Greeks would say, the fire, the woman and the sea. The three curses of the world. You can survive fire, you can survive a storm… But you cannot escape the wrath of the woman. God knows what goes on in the chaos that is their minds."

Hephaestus also had a long sip, to summon up the courage to ask the next question. Despite Zeus being friendly towards him, Hephaestus could not forget that he was talking to his King.

"With all due respect, Sir, is the Crown Princess bitter over getting engaged in general, or over getting engaged… to me?"

The question took Zeus by surprise, much as he had been expecting it. He was also troubled about it, but he kept trying to get it out of his mind. State matters were more important than his own daughter's caprices.

"I see you read the papers," he replied, taking another sip. He needed a cigar right now, but he could never do so before a guest, even though Hephaestus had told him time and again that smoke did not bother him. "But it is not like she has a choice. She is twenty-six years old. In four years, she will be thirty. Soon enough, she will be too old to have children."

Hephaestus flickered at the last word. Of course Aphrodite would want to have children – she ought to. She was the future head of state, so she had to ensure the continuation of the line of succession. But apparently, Zeus had no idea that his dreadful qualities went farther than the eye could see. Instead, he tried to slightly change the subject:

"What I mean, Sir, is… I have heard and read so much about her, that I am afraid of her reaction. I wouldn't want her to dislike me or even hate me."

"You know how that song goes, a woman's heart is an abyss. Goes from heaven to hell and vice versa in seconds. It's that unpredictability that makes them so charming and mysterious."

"What can I say," Hephaestus grinned. "You know best."

"Not to worry. Everything has been planned out. I will tell her the whole story in two weeks. Give her some time to learn her lesson first. She's already worn out from the tour in Europe and the U.S, and now she has to work for fifteen hours a day on home ground. Trust me, she is less dangerous when she is exhausted. In the meantime, my aides and my press secretary will come up with a plan to introduce the two of you to each other first and to the world second. We don't want anyone questioning the credibility of your relationship."

 _Or the lack of it_ , he thought. He might have been fooling Hephaestus but he was smarter than that.

"Tell me something, son, in all honesty. Do you love her? Do you really see yourself standing by her side, through thick and thin?"

He had asked him the same things when Hephaestus had asked for Aphrodite's hand in marriage. Somehow, Zeus wanted to reassure himself for one more time that the risk was worth taking.

Hephaestus smiled: "I fell into the trap that most men fall in, it seems."

Zeus grinned. Yes, he had done the right choice. This man may have looked weak, but there was more to him than his unattractive appearance. He could certainly tame the wild animal that was his daughter. He would keep her out of harm.

"I have to warn you though, she is a handful. She will give you hell and enjoy every second of it. A pretty woman alone is a bad thing. A beautiful _and_ confident one is dangerous. Like a wild tiger. You cannot keep them inside a cage."

"Beauty fell in love with the Beast in the end," Hephaestus replied. "I do keep my hopes up."

Zeus laughed. Hephaestus followed. Opening another glass of whiskey, Zeus proceeded to refill his – and his alone – glass. Hephaestus was his subject, he could help himself. Raising his glass, Zeus exclaimed:

"Well then. To the Beauty and the Beast!"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: In this chapter, I'm using artistic license when it comes to Thessaloniki and it's peoples' views on monarchy. My primary source was the 1993 Sky documentary "Once A King" about the actual former Greek Royal Family and the Greeks' view on them etc (it's on YT if you want to check it out, it also explains why the monarchy was/is a big deal and shows how fragile the political stability is in Greece). They also said that Northern Greece actually _was_ pro-monarchy (as far as 1993 goes). BUT I couldn't be certain about Thessaloniki in 2006, because it is a metropolis and the largest city in N. Greece. I have never been there, so all the information I have comes from the internet, lol.**

 **In Ares' POV, I refer to two famous Greek songs.** **I explain pretty much everything you need to know about the first one, but here is the YouTube link to the second one:** **watch?v=WZuuWiTK_Hg**

 **Oh, and the yacht's name is another artistic liberty. _Thalatta_ (Θάλαττα) is the ancient Greek word for sea. **

**Thanks once again to Maggie (runawaysoultrain) for BETA-reading this and for putting up with my Dite-mania which has "haunted" her for the past few months :P Thanks, too, to all of my reviewers and followers, old and new. You give me confidence in my writing and make me believe that the story is not the trash I sometimes think it is!**

 **So yeah, reviews are always welcome :)**

* * *

 _27 November 2006_

 _Palataki, Thessaloniki, Northern Greece_

Honestly, I'm so sick of myself.

The royal self. You know, the 'Crown Princess' part of me. The other half, the Aphrodite Greece or Olympios or de Grecia (our last name is still debated) is doing fine. If you overlook the fact that the Crown Princess got Aphrodite de Grecia's (I like that, got a nice twist) hands so exhausted that she feels she can't even hold cutlery properly anymore.

Again the usual round: engagement after engagement, handshakes, bouquets, speeches, greeting officials, strangers kissing my hand, curtsies, bows, bow ties, plain ties, old people, young people, the cameras, the flashes, the journalists, the motorcades, the bodyguards, the aides, the Private Secretary, the schedule, the maids, the wardrobe, the media, the press, the shoes, the books, the desks, the windows, the hand cream, the sea, the sea…

I have a headache.

Normal parents discipline their children early on in life. At my age, it's a little too late. I'm a fully grown adult, the final product, the outcome of my childhood. If it's troubled, it's my parents' fault.

But if Zeus Almighty's goal is to make me hate him to the moon and back, then he has achieved his goal. And now I can see him, in his big office, surrounded by books he has never read and likely won't ever read, sitting by his hundred-year-old desk or in the small sitting room right opposite, where he meets all the 'great men' of the country, rubbing his hands and taking great pride in me just shutting up and doing my job.

Frankly, I'm not doing it for him. The busier I keep, the less time I have to think about him selling me off like fish at the market… And yes, I have visited fish markets. This is not Marie Antoinette talking, I do know that cake is more expensive than bread… Even though she never said that because, considering the cloistered life royalty led back then, it is impossible that she knew that both were made with flour.

Anyway. I did go to the Film Festival the evening before (we call it TIFF for short, not to be confused with the one in Toronto) and, yes, there were journalists waiting for me. Practically, I was the mascot and the sole reason they asked a member of the Royal Family to be a guest-of-honour was for people to get to know it. I mean, it is an international film festival, but the Toronto one outshines the Thessaloniki one every single year. Whatever. All I watched was the awards ceremony and I was not even asked to present any kind of award, which was rather annoying. Instead I just watched the ceremony from the best seat they could have given me (front row, so that everyone could see me clapping) and I had to hide my disdain because practicality won over fashion.

I wore a knee-length red leatherette dress. And matching shoes. Now, repeat after me: animals are our friends, we should not kill them just to look pretty. So, I had worn this dress at another function the year before but because that event had not received much publicity, people wouldn't even remember the outfit. But it was the only one that could fly safely, without causing much of a fuss to my maids, who had to have everything set out for me two hours beforehand, while I was still getting a tour of the city with the mayor as my tour guide. Needless to say, Evita Peron would've been proud.

Northern Greece – especially the region of Macedonia – is pro-monarchy. Most of it anyway. Because they are near the Balkans, and have more issues issues with the neighboring countries than the rest of Greece, they see the Royal Family – us dirty little bunch – as some sort of national heroes, the ones that will rid them of their troubles, the ones that will never let them down. And they are friendly too so, when they saw me on the street, everyone stood up to take a good look at me. Many didn't even hesitate walking up to me, to greet me and kiss my hand. Some even asked me if Hera had recovered.

Now, if that had been the King, they'd have been all over him, hardly ever letting him walk. I have experienced those kinds of crowds, getting so close to you that you can hardly take a step. Imagine your town having a favourite rock star and he shows up, just strolling as if nothing is the matter. Let me tell you, they don't tear up Zeus' clothes out of respect for him. But they do carry him on their shoulders. Literally.

But I am a woman and thus have the privilege of some personal space. Don't get me wrong, though, I did love those crowds. I smiled so wide that my cheeks kept hurting for two hours afterwards. They give me hope for my future. I wish I could say it worked the other way around as well, but I am a walking disappointment. See, Father, I finally acknowledged it, can I go home now?

Oh, forgot to say. The crowds were there this morning too, when I arrived at one of the many stops I had to make in Thessaloniki. I had to visit each and every single one of the museums. I started counting them, actually, but I only have one brain and it can take too much at a time, so I gave up.

Let's try again: the Archaeological Museum, the Science Center and Technology Museum (owner to the largest planetarium in Greece!), the Railway Museum which features an original Orient Express train-turned-restaurant and which is also home to some of the furnishings from the carriages of our family. The old ones. We still have a Royal Train too, and Hera requests a new decoration every five years. Then we have: the still relatively new Thessaloniki Olympic Museum; the Balkan Wars Museum; the Jewish Museum; the Photography Museum; the Macedonian Museum of Contemporary Art; and finally (finally!) the Aristotle University, also known as University of Thessaloniki.

Yes, I had to be given a private tour of the latest exhibitions. Every single one of them. Or at least, when the museum was too big, their directors simply took me to the ones they believed ought to receive the most publicity. Then I had to make a speech, occasionally unveil a plaque with my name, the date, and the mention of my visit. And at the University, I had to meet with the dean, the professors, and the students. It was a bit of a risky move because people from all over Greece – and some exchange students– attend it, but the Palace had persisted. They had said it was a great way to test the waters. See what the young people think of me. To put it mildly, no one threw anything at me and no one had turned my visit into a political rally. Both of those incidents occurred during Zeus' first – and last – visit. A rally had occurred on the spot and someone had even thrown yogurt at him to protest the Monarchy. Which means either that I am more likable than Mr. Big Boss, people are curious to see if I'm as pretty up-close, or that they take pity in my make-up. Considering that the Greek universities are awfully political, seeing them all actually being nice to me felt a bit like the calm before the storm. But nothing happened. Which proves my point.

And now you might ask, why the fuss with this city. Well, it's the second largest in Greece, it is famous for its Jewish and Turkish minorities (who have played a major role in the city's history) to whom we also ought to appeal – whatever is left of them anyway. And, last but not least, Thessaloniki has one heck of a lot of things to do, which means many engagements for me, which serves Zeus Almighty's purpose to get me so exhausted that I won't wish to wear shoes again.

Tell you what, he's nasty. He knows I can't show up anywhere without wearing heels and he keeps sending me to all these places so that I will think twice before enjoying myself ever again.

Fun fact. He was a member of the Inquisition in his past life. Or even the founder of it. Wouldn't be surprised to know he initiated the witch hunt too. Basically, he's the devil incarnate.

But a kind one at that. He's lending me the Royal Helicopter to return to Athens. It's only an hour-long journey. With nothing else to do but read, be bored, look out of the window, go over the schedule again, and wait for this ordeal to end.

But don't cry for me, Salonika.

Truth is, I only need some rest and an aspirin.

* * *

 _Royal Palace, Athens_

Eris did not waste another minute accomplishing the task at hand. She was doing her mother's bidding, after all. The instructions were clear: fool everyone. Especially those closest to you. Which is what she did. She had asked her maids to take random, small and insignificant objects, from various rooms of the Palace and bring them to her room.

"It's for cataloging," she had said, "I am curious to see how many of the items we own belong to the state or to us."

No one believed her, of course. Every single item had already been indexed in long, archived lists by historians, art experts, and museum directors. As for Eris, she had never shown any particular interest in the decoration and she was certainly aware of the long dispute among lawyers, politicians, and historians about the "shadowy ownership", meaning that it was unclear which items at the Royal Family's disposition belonged to the Crown, alas the state, or the individual.

Yet they did question her wish to keep her latest preoccupation a secret. All the items that would be given to her ought to be hidden in purses, underneath uniforms or aprons, even wrapped in table cloths and be given to her as if they had been stolen. Considering that Eris lived in the Royal Palace full-time, she had no reason to smuggle them inside her chambers. Besides, why did the items need to be transferred in the first place?

Nevertheless, no one dared go against Her Royal Highness's wishes. If they did, they would be fired, immediately, without a letter of recommendation. Some feared that they would also be accused of stealing, either by Eris herself or by someone else who had seen them hide various items: a porcelain statuette, a riffle of the nineteenth century, or small portraits that had been in the Royal Palace for over a hundred years – nearly as old as the royal dynasty. Her Royal Highness had also made it clear that what she needed the most was the gifts presented to the King by fellow heads of state, from the U.S. President to the Grand Ducal Family of Luxembourg.

Eris enjoyed every second of it. She loved giving orders and causing chaos. To her, nothing could be compared with the status of being a princess. And she believed she had thrived in her role, far better than Aphrodite had done.

 _Oh, sorry. The Crown Princess._

She could not understand why Aphrodite had been made the heiress to the throne in the first place. Sure, Aphrodite was the eldest of Zeus's legitimate children, but her mother was a commoner whose only good trait was to be born wealthy. Eris' own mother, Hera, was a noble. She was a direct descendant of Greek Russian nobility, her great-great-grandfather was one of the Greeks of Odessa who had financed the Greek War of Independence of 1821, ending four centuries of Ottoman rule over Greece. Or whatever could be identified as Greece back then. He had lost most of his fortune, and by the time Hera was born there had been nothing left for them but peanuts. Still. Eris' ancestors had attended balls at the Romanov court whereas Aphrodite's were Cypriot fishermen and shepherds, in a village no one had ever heard of before. It probably didn't exist anymore either.

Hera did not share the same view. "There's also your brother to think of," she would say. Now, don't be fooled. The Queen certainly knew that Ares would never ascend the throne, since there was not a single drop of royal blood in his veins. Much as his – and everyone else's - ego likes to think otherwise. If Aphrodite was morganatic, he was one lucky peasant. But that didn't matter anymore. Their titles could not be changed, and Eris was destined to live a life in the shadows. Seeing her half-sister step into the spotlight and her always feeling a pang of jealousy at the sight. She would be forever haunted by the eternal "It should've been me", which everyone thought, yet no one admitted. And once Aphrodite became Queen, Eris would be forced to leave the Royal Palace and move somewhere else.

Still, there was one positive outcome of her never ascending the throne. She would not have to endure a loveless marriage just so the world would not question her credibility, as was the case with her parents. She loved Zeus and Hera's story. The noblewoman turned _maitraise en titre_ , turned wife, turned Queen. And the King who had risked everything to be with her, only to stand up to his father, the Parliament and even his own subjects, to marry the woman he loved. And their union produced three daughters, which they raised, along with a little boy they had decided to adopt after a charity visit at an orphanage. It may have all sounded picture-perfect but it was far from it. The King turned out not to be a faithful husband to his Queen. He would chase after other women. Mostly. Growing up, Eris could notice the crying, the doors banging, the sound of things breaking, the fights that no one should hear. When she was a child, she was scared of getting close to her father. His temper frightened her to the point that she kept having the same nightmare: Zeus would slap her across the face so hard that she would bleed. But she did not dare say a word, until she reached puberty.

Then she was not afraid to openly side with her mother and to convince her siblings, Ares and Eileithyia, to do the same. To them, it was simple. It had been what they had been taught all these years. Their father was wrong and he would have to pay for it. Not in money, of course. But with emotional support, both for his wife and his children.

Instead, he let Hera raise them. She returned the favour by turning them against their father, to think of him as a vile man but a good King. A contrast, which perfectly described their lives: the distinction between public and private. What they showed to the world and what they kept to themselves. Hera was no angel either. But she was chosen to play a role and the least she could do was play it well.

Eris was brought up to think the same about herself as well, only to be overshadowed by Aphrodite's popularity and "Miss Goody Two Shoes" attitude. Since she could remember herself, her big half-sister had been the fashionable one, the pretty one, the elegant one, the scandalous one. The only thing Eris had to match her, or at least make Aphrodite think of her as an antagonist, was the selfishness and snobbishness she had inherited from both her parents and the looks she had inherited solely from her mother. But she, like Hera, had a constant stern expression on her face which many found intimidating. Aphrodite had a sweeter, more approachable kind of beauty. Which made Eris want to vomit.

Perhaps, she thought, that's why she was helping her mother, after all. Eris dreaded the day she would no longer be considered _the_ Royal Family but _extended_ Royal Family. The more political pressure was thrown on their father, the more unpopular he became and the more Aphrodite's popularity arose. She had seen today's papers. She had read everything about Aphrodite's tour. They would never write such appraisals about Eris. Or Hera. Or everyone else Eris considered family. And that hurt, as much as it angered her.

So, for her, the motive was simple: do everything you can to hide the King's scandal. The longer he remained King, the longer it would take for the Crown Princess to ascend the throne. And the longer it would take for her to become Queen, the longer Eris could enjoy the benefits of being the eldest daughter of the King and the Queen. Alas a Princess. In the true sense of the word.

* * *

 _Palataki, Thessaloniki, Northern Greece_

 _Evening_

Perhaps I exaggerated. I have to admit, not everything about my life is terrible. Neither does the whole of my life consist of me working for King and Country. Sometimes, I just get to be myself. Away from the cameras and the public eye.

So now here I am, in the back yard of Palataki, overlooking the Thermaic Gulf. That's in Northern Aegean. I couldn't stop whining previously because I was angry and tired. It's my coping mechanism. But now I can take you on a tour myself, not in a museum (I've had enough of those for the next six months at least), but of the two-story red mansion where I spent the night.

Palataki expands over fifteen acres and its facade consists mostly of a Grecian colonnade supporting the large balconies of the second floor. It continues on to the second floor, just not on such a large scale. In front of the building, there is a marble courtyard with a small rose garden on the side. In agreement with the government, that's where they host the events like concerts or plays in summer. Now moving inside the building, and you enter a big sitting room. Those are the public reception rooms. Move on to the right – very right – and you find a wide marble staircase hiding somewhere there in the corner. It leads to the private areas – the two suites for us to use and the staff areas. Go higher up and you reach the roof, where the only thing worth seeing is the Greek flag waving, day and night.

I actually do have a sea view, but it's different to watch the real thing up close. I don't know why, but the sea relaxes me. Mother says it's because I was born in an island, or that I have fond memories of a house by the sea. Remember my parents' divorce from three thousand years ago? Turns out, the price the Royal Family paid for her silence and her giving up her royal status was a mansion slightly resembling Palataki, outside Corinth, another city overlooking the Aegean. And there I'd spend every summer growing up – except for the times I had to be seen in public with His Majesty, My Father – and every morning, I'd go for a swim. Which is what I wished I could do now. But it's November, the sea isn't calm, and the last thing I need is to risk catching pneumonia. Zeus Almighty would think I had done it on purpose and then find something else to punish me with.

Which makes it tempting, frankly, I am rather curious to see what else he can come up with. I mean I have already ticked every single box: Europe and America? Check. Greece? In progress. Marriage? Coming up next.

Incredible how he puts all that thinking into finding ways to keep me preoccupied and still has all of his hair.

The public appearances thing is getting rather old and does not really help matters, except for making people favouring me over him. Because I am the one traveling over the country and mingling with the crowds, while he remains in Athens, locked in this grand Palace of his.

Honestly, what is next on his list, motherhood?

I mean it's what people expect of me. I no longer have any excuse not to have children. And everywhere I go, people at times do look at my belly, wondering why it's not getting any bigger. It's not everyone – thank God – but it's a fun little game. Spot those who read the gossip columns. Hint: it's not just the women. Now there you go. Winner gets my extra cookie.

Oh, and in other news, Blanche is here too. Arrived in a helicopter, just like my dress. Thank goodness the state pays the fuel for those damn things or we'd have gone bankrupt. Or not travel at all. See? I'd be terrible at surviving in the real world!

So, Blanche is with me now, and she keeps on jumping around and licking my hands. She wants to play fetch, as we do every time she's out in the open, but I don't do it near the sea. Last time I tried, the ball fell into the water and the Coast Guard had to come - by boat - to look for it, pick it up, and then check it thoroughly in case a bomb was hiding in there.

Ooh, good idea. Next time Zeus Almighty gets on my nerves, I'm throwing him Blanche's ball. But he's hopeless, humorless, and walks on all two. He would never get the reference.

Instead, I try the next best thing and keep chasing her around. Picture it. Me in my silk pajamas, matching robe and heavy coat (it is the only piece of clothing that does not remind me of my tight schedule), hair pulled back, holding one end of a purple blanket and tossing it in the air for Blanche to catch. It is a windy evening, which makes the game easier. Well, at least it does keep her preoccupied.

And then an aide arrives:

"It's a letter for you, Your Highness. Just arrived from Crete."

Crete? Grandmother Rhea… Again. Last time I received anything from her, she told me – implied, rather – that Father was planning on an arranged match for me. What now, was I married already?

"Thank you", I tell him. He takes a step back, bows and goes back inside. I take the folder in my hands and examine it closely.

There is no name written on it. Of course. No one knows she is living there. At least no one outside the family. Instead, it only writes 'EMERGENCY' and has the royal seal. It is a way to know which correspondence comes directly from the Royal Family.

I open it hastily. It reads:

 _Dear Aphrodite,_

 _Seeing that my son has not yet taken matters into his own hands, I believe that I should._

 _I know of his plans to get you married despite your own wishes to ensure his legacy, save you from scandal and, consequently, secure the future of the Monarchy._

 _The good news is, you have seen your intended before – twice. You two make quite the pair for all the wrong reasons. The second time you met him, I heard you saying how disgusted you were at his "atrocious" birth marks covering his chin and right cheek. You also felt pity for him not being able to walk properly. The bad news is, my son has already given his blessing to the young man, which makes you,_ _officially_ _, an engaged woman._

 _It is Hephaestus. His last name does not matter, since he will be rid of it the day of your wedding. According to the information I receive from Athens, Hera refers to him as 'the Quasimodo'. I would agree, poor thing._

 _Cronus also wrote, he is displeased with your father's reign. I dare admit, Zeus makes a fine King but not a fine specimen of a father or a husband. Your own situation might be worse, but I expect you treat your spouse in a better way._

 _I will no longer be involved in the matter. But remember: as royalty, we serve; as women, we obey._

 _Take care,_

 _Your grandmother_

Um… Huh. Sorry… What?

I read the letter again.

Yup, there it was. Still there.

And suddenly, I don't know which is more infuriating. His Majesty marrying me off without my consent…. Or his choice for my husband…

Hephaestus. The ugliest man ever to mingle in royal circles. The one who, wasn't it for his family's wealth and connections, would hardly ever amount to anything!

What's worse, I don't know how to react. When Father announced the news, I was furious. But now, that I know who I am being auctioned off to, everything seems like a joke. That is not even funny to begin with.

Blanche jumps on me, bringing me back to reality. But I am not in the mood for fun and games anymore. The helicopter that will take me and Blanche back to Athens arrives in about an hour and I need some time to think things through.

I don't want to go to my bedroom either. The walls have ears everywhere, especially there. I motion for Blanche to walk inside, trying not to notice her disappointment that the game is over. But I do give her the blanket to carry while everyone inside is packing my things for my flight.

I don't care that I might catch the death of me if I stay outside a minute longer. Grandmother always means more than what she puts on paper. A sort of skill of hiding messages while stating the obvious, a trick she mastered during her years as Queen, trying to protect her children from her husband and the Monarchy from harm.

She mentioned Hera. By name. Those two get along just fine. She usually refers to her either as 'my daughter-in-law' or 'the Queen', like everyone else.

Could it… Was Hera behind all of this? Is that why she came back the day I found out about my betrothal? Pretty sure she backed this whole plan, if not even set it out. It's what she had always wanted after all, for me to stop overshadowing her. So she thought, if she married me off to someone like him, everyone would be too disgusted to look at me. Because why would I want to settle down – and with the least good looking guy – if not for, well, all the obvious reasons?

I tear up. It must be the wind, but it also happens when I am hurt. Or the times when I can no longer be angry because the inevitable is about to happen. I should have figured it out earlier. Zeus would never play the matchmaker, he's too busy for that.

I have to call Mother. It must be noon in New York now. I can just call her and tell her what happened. But no, that would worry her and she would come to Greece first thing. I have to think of something else. I could tell her about the stress, that it had gotten too much. I feel bad about lying to her, though it seems like the best choice. Her arrival would only cause more trouble. After all, this is something I can deal with. A situation I can get out of. Isn't it?

Rushing back inside the house, the letter in my pocket, I order Lydia, who is standing by the door:

"I need to speak to my mother. Now!"

Lydia just nods. Next thing I know, I am sitting on my bed, the door to my bedroom closed, listening to Mother's soothing voice.

Now I can let the tears run free.

* * *

 _Royal Palace, Athens_

Zeus was in his office, on his own, trying to focus on reading a random book he had found on his desk. It was about Constitutional Law, the same book he had read over and over in his twenty-three years as King. There, in the room decorated primarily with wood, surrounded by bookcases filled with books on politics, philosophy, history and diplomacy, he felt safe. His two-hundred-year desk overlooked the small sitting room, with the square leather green-grey sofas and matching armchairs. On his left, before the balcony door, was a blue sofa with a coffee table, where he enjoyed taking a small break from his duties and where he normally sat to make a big decision.

But now, he had to appear preoccupied somehow. He owed it to himself, if not to anyone else.

Although, ostensibly, he was studying and taking notes, in reality he couldn't focus. His mind was thinking of all the things he should do with his family. He had to introduce Hephaestus and Aphrodite somehow. Arrange a meeting or two for them, perhaps, so the media could start speculating on a budding romance. Now that Hephaestus had grown a beard, his birth marks had become invisible. They could come up with a different excuse for his trouble with walking. Say, it was the result of an accident he had had when he was little, or a surgery for a broken knee gone bad. Still, Aphrodite would have to know the name of her intended.

 _That had better wait_ , he thought, _until this tour is over._ He had twelve more days to come up with something. _Plenty of time._

His Press Secretary had suggested a gala to celebrate Hera's recovery and to mark her return to royal duties. The grand affair with the tiaras and the military medals was what the nation needed to stop the rumours about yet another drift in the reigning couple's marriage. Other royal houses would be invited as well. They always enjoyed coming to the celebrations of the Greek Royal Family, after all. Hera wanted to host either in one of the many museums, or the foyer of the Houses of Parliament, so that people could see them as they exited their cars and entered the lavish Old Palace, which seemed "grand enough for an affair like that" as she had put it, with a hint of irony. Zeus preferred the Reception Hall at the Royal Palace, which they often referred to as 'the ballroom'. Perhaps he could introduce Aphrodite and Hephaestus this way. Among royalty. To a widely publicized event. But then, Hera might not like it. The Crown Princess might overshadow her in her much-needed moment of glory and the last thing Zeus wanted was another feud between the two.

God, he needed sleep.

He had not managed to sleep well since the day Hera had left for Corfu. Most of the time he would toss and turn, waking up in the middle of the night, lighting cigarette after cigarette, even pouring himself one drink after another, hoping it would make him dizzy and force him to go to sleep. He had even tried sleeping pills, which his valet had sneaked into his drawer, but they wouldn't help either. Instead, they gave him nightmares. He would relive the scene of her leaving in the middle of the night, over and over and he'd wake up covered in sweat and cursing himself for ruining everything.

Their rooms were adjacent, with a small anteroom between them. He could easily turn the key to the lock and go to her chambers, the only room in the Palace where she felt the most comfortable. Where she could calm down and be herself. And now there she was, every night, and still he couldn't sneak in. She wouldn't let him in. She would go on playing the queen by his side, but she did it out of duty rather than out of free will. "God forbid people find out the truth about us," she had told him once, years ago, when he had apologized for yet another infidelity. He had noticed the pain and the determination in her voice, how she hated him but was willing to work things out with him because he had apologized. Perhaps they had changed. "Sorry" was the word he couldn't bring himself to utter and he had no idea why. Perhaps he had not forgiven himself either. Yet the more he postponed it, the worst things got. But Hera was not the only one who could not forgive him.

He was the King of a country for heaven's sake, and still, he let himself be taken for a 'sissy'. He let himself be carried away, in a moment of weakness, and that one time it happened had been enough to destroy everything. From his marriage to his very own self-esteem.

And now there he was, being only half the man he was. He couldn't recognize himself any more. He was wasting all this time thinking about feelings, something that women did, instead of getting on with the work. Men never thought about such things. They hit and run, just like that. Women accept that. It's how the world works. Men sleep with women, they chase after them, it's how nature made us. Everything else is anomaly, perhaps a mental illness even. Perhaps that's what it is. Maybe he had gone mad, after all. Or was slowly heading there.

But now would be the worst time to abdicate. With his marriage in tatters, Aphrodite not having realized the significance of her future role, and his father still alive. A former and a current reigning king were all Greece could take. Two former monarchs and a reigning queen would be too much. No country – as far as he was concerned – had it, and he would not make his the first one.

According to his calculations, Aphrodite would be so disgusted by Hephaestus that she would refuse to sleep with him for a long time after the wedding. Zeus still had plenty of time as King until his daughter would give Greece an heir to the heir. His own father was old and getting all the frailer. Perhaps, with a little bit of luck, he would not live to see his great-grandchild. Once the future of the Monarchy for yet another generation was secured, Zeus would go quietly. When Aphrodite's popularity would have reached its zenith. As had been the case with him all these years before.

Besides, Zeus had made a name for himself as the King that had ensured political stability. Governments came and went as they are supposed to. He had made it clear from the start that his role would be strictly ceremonial. His only political involvement would be the weekly audiences with the Prime Minister, him inaugurating the democratically-elected administrations, and him signing laws into action. He would not do it like Cronus – he would not hire and fire politicians to his own liking; he would not support dictatorships; he would not influence public opinion. This way, he had made life as head of state easier for him.

If only his family would follow his lead...

* * *

Since I am in a helicopter, still rather tense, with three other people, Blanche, and nothing better to do than reading, I will keep you entertained with what Mother said to me.

The moment she heard me saying that I couldn't take it anymore, she said, in this soothing, melodic voice of hers:

"There is no such a thing as an issue that cannot be dealt with."

Then I just couldn't keep it in any longer and told her about Father's plan; Hephaestus; and the possibility that Hera might be the driving force behind all of this. She just listened carefully, before adding:

"I-I honestly have no idea what to say... But wasting your time on speculating who did what won't make things any better either. You ought to face the issue. Have you tried talking to your father about it?"

"He won't listen. He has already given his blessing."

"Ah! Then it is certainly a million-dollar contract signed right there," she said ironically.

"It's a dead-cert."

"Nothing is a dead-cert with this family, dear, especially if your father said so."

I let out a laugh and wiped my eyes. I already felt much better.

"I don't know, Ma… What would Princess Charlotte of Wales do?"

She was one of the many role models Mother had introduced me to. When I was fourteen, she had given me a biography of hers as a gift, which I had read so many times, I had memorized entire pages. I had been fascinated by someone who could have been so similar to me, but who had lived the Regency era. Early nineteenth century. She had been the most famous royal of her time, overshadowing even her father and grandfather. She, too, had been born the heiress to the throne, her parents had been divorced, and her father had had many illegitimate children (Queen Victoria actually descends from one of them). Growing up, she had been forced to spend more time with her father, the later George IV and she had been often used as a pawn to her father's marital game. What a scary coincidence, don't you think? But she had had managed to stand up to her father while he had been planning to marry her off to William of Orange (later the King of the Netherlands) and marry Leopold I of Belgium, the man she had chosen herself. And now, I was finding myself in a similar situation and could not find a way out.

Pretty sure Mother shook her head in desperation on the other line: "Those were different times dear."

"I know, but she did it. Which means that perhaps I could, too. If I could find a way."

"As I am sure you will."

A long pause, and, as if reading my thoughts, Mother added:

"I do wish I could help you, but my hands are tied. My getting involved would only make matters worse. So, the best thing you can do would be to stop asking yourself what a woman who has been long dead would have done in your place, and figure out what you, Aphrodite, will do. Your father has not told you yet for his own reasons. Perhaps he is trying to find a way to get the news out to you."

"But I know who my intended is! I could just make his life easier if I just told him."

"And if he asks you where you got the information from?"

"He will never think bad of his own mother."

"No, but he will likely tell her. Those two are very close. She knew everything before anyone else found out. Who do you think might have told her?"

"So I just... wait for things to happen?"

"Perhaps play the merry-go-round. Ask to meet your intended. Just once, to see what he looks like."

"It would work as a set-up for the cameras too. I will ask to meet him, just so we do not look like total strangers. I will try to be the actress and come up with a way to fool everyone, mostly him, because if I can show even the slightest attention to someone like him, he might feel like he is special and maybe we could convince for a couple who love each other? Perhaps?"

She laughed: "You are Hera's daughter all right!"

"Mother!" I blurted out, pretending to be offended.

"Well, if you still call me that, it means that I am entitled to have an opinion on your wedding dress!"

"I give you my blessing!"

We both laughed and then we hang up. Suddenly, the weight I felt on my shoulders since I had received the letter seems to have lifted.

And now back here I am, in the helicopter, looking outside the window, at the Greek landscape.

"Your Highness?" one of the operators asked.

"Yes, please?"

"We will land at the gardens of the Royal Palace in about ten minutes. You might feel a small turbulence, but it's nothing to worry about."

Bring it on. Can't be worse than the ones in my life.

* * *

 _Night_

 _Army base,_ _Alexandroupoli, Northern Greece_

Ares had no idea what was wrong with him.

There had been other women before her, of course. Some preferable ones, who Hera had also approved of. But none as attractive as her. She was the forbidden fruit, the exotic dream, the danger he should avoid at all costs. The fire that would burn him if he came too close.

He could remember the first time he had noticed her, the way a man notices a woman. She had been sitting at the right side of the Royal Yacht _Thalatta_ , her long and shapely legs hanging over the boat, as if wanting to touch the Aegean Sea. Her eyes had been half-closed, too absorbed in the ship crashing the waves to notice the world around her. She had been dressed in a one-piece black swimming suit which left her shoulders and backside bare. Its tear at the front, ending in the middle of the stomach, had teased just enough as it gave a glimpse of the cleavage. And she had been wearing a thin light blue belt around her waist. No, not light blue. She had called it some funny name, turquoise or something.

 _Like the colour of the sea..._

It was during their annual summer cruise to the Greek islands. The very first one that the whole of the Royal Family - uncles and aunts included - had taken together since the Millennium. He was twenty-four years old and had made up his mind to follow a military career just three months prior, much to Hera's dread and Zeus' pride. She was twenty-two, barely out of university, enjoying her last summer of relative privacy before she took the world by storm. In the years that followed, he would see her global rise to celebrity, becoming known as _'the most beautiful Princess in the world'_. First in 2003, with their father's twenty-year jubilee and Greece's six-month presidency of the EU; then with the Olympics in 2004, when she had been photographed and interviewed by the world's most famous magazines; and finally with Greece hosting the Eurovision Song Contest in 2006. All those years, he would have to endure other men talking about her. He'd listen to their obnoxious and offensive remarks, talking about her as if they knew her. Some even admitted - to his face! - to fantasizing about her. He would defend her honour by punching them, while he would suffer internally. There was no escaping her fame and her beauty. Even his own friends would tease him about having such a woman at his beck and call and mock him for doing nothing.

But he couldn't. She was his own sister.

 _Half-sister._

 _Adoptive half-sister.  
_

They had hardly grown up as siblings. They had slept in separate nurseries, had different nannies, and had attended distant schools (Gordonstoun in Scotland for him and Le Rosey in Switzerland for her). And when they would come home, he would have the relative freedom of sneaking around, while she was busier learning how to run a country...

Yet all that seemed so far away in that August day in 2002, when she was playfully diving her legs in the water and he was looking at her, mesmerized by the vision. The girl that had grown up to become a woman. The one that would always get away.

Suddenly, he saw her standing up, with the ease of an athlete and the grace of a ballet dancer. She climbed on the railing and stood there for two seconds, while her long, loose curls were catching the wind. She welcomed it by closing her eyes and shaking her head. Then she stretched out her arms. And she jumped.

 _Like a playful dolphin._

For a second, he contemplated whether or not to join her. It was early in the afternoon, everyone else was resting inside, some were even taking a nap. The sun was still up and the heat was getting all the more unbearable. But he had no idea what to blame. The Greek August sun, or his own hormones?

She had told him once that the water had always been her natural element. When they had been little children, she had dreamed of becoming a mermaid. Or, if rebirth had truly existed, she would have loved to be resurrected as a seahorse. A female one. When he had asked her why, she had brought her hands to her mouth and giggled: "So I can't get pregnant, silly!"

How old had they been back then? She must have been eight years old and he ten. Hardly did they resemble their child selves. He had become the very definition of a man and she had turned into the perfect, golden vision of a woman. Yet, she would still smile like that little girl she had once been.

Where had all these years gone? She no longer decorated her room with pictures of mermaids. And he no longer had to worry about being half the man their father was. All the years of intense workout and military training had left their mark on him. He had grown muscular, drawn by the sense of adventure and had embraced the Army Bases as his new home. Given the chance, he would not shave for days on end. To him, a beard was a sign of masculinity and physical strength. Eris often teased her older brother: "Soon, I won't even need a bodyguard, I'll hire you instead!"

But Ares could never think of Eris in the same way he treated - or wished to treat - Aphrodite.

She was his sister. They shared the same parents and experiences. The mere thought disgusted him.

Yet he did not have such thoughts every time he would look at Aphrodite. She was swimming by the Royal Yacht, most of her body hiding inside the blue sea and enjoying the feeling of the foam massaging her. She was smiling. Glowing, even! He had never seen her looking so carefree, so beautiful before. For a moment, he wished he had been a drop of sea water, to touch her and stick with her, until she wiped him off a few minutes later. Or better yet, a ray of sun. To always look at her and shine on her beauty.

What was the matter with him? Why this sudden urge to be poetic? He was not like that. Poetry was for the unmanly. Heck, falling in love was for the soft. His father had always taught him - with actions rather than with words - that the man was the hunter; the polygamist. "Men never stick with just one woman when they can find satisfaction elsewhere," Zeus would say. "It's the way nature works. The man conquers; the woman pleases."

And then, there she was, the woman that bent all rules. Enjoying the summer in all its glory, never minding the heat.

How many boyfriends had she had so far? Ares had no idea. There were the ones the world knew of, of course, but then there were also the ones no one would ever find out about. He felt a pang of jealousy at the realization. So many men before him - and who knows how many after him - had gotten a taste of her. Of the forbidden fruit he so badly wanted to claim as his. And his alone. He knew the stakes were too high; that an affair with her would destroy the Monarchy. He did not care. He was focused on her, playing with the waves and diving back into the water, only to rise again a short distance away. She was a fast swimmer and _Thalatta_ would soon catch up with her.

Was she aware of his feelings for her? He hoped not. Impossible as that seemed. He would not want to confuse her or force her into doing something she did not want to do.

Heck, enough already! The man never asked the woman. If he wanted her, he took her. Simple as that. He never cared about her feelings, or paid attention to the words of affection he uttered, least of all to the _'I love you'_ she responded with. He never called back and made sure to disappear without a trace. The man was allowed to have plenty of conquests, as long as he had a wife to bear his children. But Ares never wanted to become a parent. He wanted to live his life for himself, not for others. Especially not his sisters. Particularly not her.

But she was working her magic on him and she did not even notice. Or if she had, she was teasing him. Unless she did not care. No one could get anywhere with her. He remembered that old Greek song, the one his father would always hum, out of Hera's earshot. 'The woman's heart is an abyss,' the song went. 'Sometimes it's hell, sometimes it's heaven'.

Or even another, a more recent one, which was an equally big hit. About a woman feeling lonely during summertime, begging her loved one to come back to her. He had seen the music video for it. The singer in the island of Milos, where they were also headed to, either swimming or standing in the water and the sand, staring at the camera and singing the wonderful, melancholic tune.

And suddenly, a familiar, equally melodic voice:

"Come on, Ares, jump! I know you want to!"

He laughed: "Someone has to help you out of the water!"

But Aphrodite would have none of it: "If you don't jump, I'll pull you! Come, get in the water!

"But what if-"

"I can help myself out! Wouldn't be the first time! Now, jump!"

So he did. For ten minutes, they were two little children again. She kept splashing water to his face, and he, pretending to be mad, held her by the waist and tickled her low in the back. He knew she hated that and she took her revenge by challenging him. Could he hold his breath underwater for longer than she did? While swimming? It was a battle he knew he'd lose, no one beat her in games involving the sea. Still, he went ahead with it. She was still under the water when he gave up. He could only last for three minutes. She did not even look at him – just kept swimming. Up to the yacht. Away from him. He caught up with her. A member of the crew unfolded the wooden boarding stairs for them to climb back on board. Ares tried to help her, but Aphrodite had better ideas. Kicking him back, she took a hold of the railing and entered the yacht like a thief. Like she would always do.

Grinning, she told her big brother: "Not much of a man now, are we?"

Now, winter was approaching. Four years had passed since that summer – the last three months of freedom, for both of them. She went on to become famous the world over and he was now a permanent member in the Royal Armed Forces. A Lieutenant. They had become lovers only a few months ago. The memory of him finally holding her in his arms was as comforting as the memory of their last summer together. He was still torn. She was still his sister. Heavens, she was his future queen. He would swear allegiance to her name and he would fight for her, defending her country... Her world... What he wanted, most of all, was to do all these things for her. For Aphrodite de Grecia, also known as Aphrodite Olympios. Not for the Crown Princess. Or for the hollow institution she represented.

Every time he thought about her, he feared his worst nightmares had come true. She had turned him into a weakling. He was not even close to the ideal alpha male he had always wanted to be. He did not just hit and run; he simply ran. Towards her. All the more each day.

And – even worse! - he enjoyed every second of it.

He didn't care anymore. He would do it. He would jump that fence and to hell with the consequences. To hell with the punishment, the potential loss of his Lieutenant title, with him fearing he had let down his parents, with the media scrutiny...

He would find her.

Come hell or high water.

* * *

 **Hi, me again. I was just wondering, which character/god/royal/whatever would you like me to focus more on the next chapter(s)? Just so it does not end up repetitive (for lack of better word). I'm up for anything, background, the plot moving forward (i.e. some Dite/Heph action) or whatever else you can think of. All suggestions are welcome :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hey and sorry for the late updates! I've just been rather busy with real life these days and will likely not update next week because I have some uni projects to finish by next Monday. Originally, this chapter was supposed to be twice as long as it is, but halfway through writing it I realized I could not fit all the scenes in there in a nice-flowing way (they looked more way out of place than the scenes in this chapter do), which means that I have already planned out the next chapter and all I need is to write it.**

 **And, spoiler alert: There will definitely be some Aphrodite/Hephaestus action in there. Maybe some Ares/Aphrodite one too, if I manage to sneak it in somewhere.**

 **Also: I've rewritten some chapters with chapter 2 suffering an entire makeover because I had really hated it (I still do btw, only less). I didn't change the plot and I kept the characterization largely the same as it was (I hope). I actually spent two days doing nothing but research on royalty and their lifestyles and I felt like I had to go back and rewrite some aspects of their lives which I felt I had gotten wrong, so that I make this story sound more accurate (e.g. Aphrodite's morning routine in chapter 2, very first scene). So yeah, in case you re-read this whole thing, don't be surprised. I just find my own writing cringe-worthy at times :)**

 **Happy reading!  
**

* * *

 _28 November 2006_

 _ _Army Base,_ Alexandroupoli, Northern Greece_

To hell with her! Her and her beauty and everything she had done to him! He would not succumb to vain desires. He wouldn't destroy everything he had achieved just because of a night over three months ago. No matter her good looks and her bewitching scorpion dance. He would not go to prison for her. She was not worth it. He would rather do so in times of battle, at his moment of glory, while defending the honour of his Queen and protecting his country.

Yet there he was, acting like a teenager who thinks he is in love for the first time. Filling his head with unrealistic plans. Reality was different. Even if he had been stupid enough to run away, she would not have welcomed him with opens arms, let alone spread her legs for him again. He had to get her out of his mind, before she conquered his thoughts again and made him regret his decision again.

Screw everything. Screw the butterflies in his stomach every time he thought about her, his memory rushing back to their childish games and the tricks his mind would play to him. He kept seeing her picture in the Colonel's office, right beneath the portraits of the King and the Queen. She was dressed in full regalia, complete with a heavy tiara and a dress that modestly hid all of her charms. She was not looking at the camera and she was not smiling. She looked stern. As she ought to be.

Commanding respect.

A constant reminder that he ought to regain control of himself. Stop seeing her as his lover and go back to treating her as his sister and future Queen.

He had to stop acting like an idiot or a foolish romantic. He had made the right decision by staying at the Base. It had spared him the humiliation of falling to his knees.

 _Just like every other man._

If the circumstances had been different, he would not have given it a second thought. He would have risked everything. But, in this world, they were still the King's children; they had a nation to think of.

There he was doing it again!

He had tried everything to keep his mind from daydreaming about her: clean his guns, organize the bullets, do office work, command his inferiors, partake in military exercises... He had even tried practicing his shooting, only to give up as soon as he had started. He felt small and insignificant. Self-resentment, that's what it was. How ironic. He was a fully-grown man, a Lieutenant, who had won honours and medals, some handed out to him by the King himself with a proud smile on his face. All those things he had achieved on his very own merit. No one getting in his way.

 _Especially_ _her._

It was all her fault. He had been drafted to Thrace because of her. He had dreamed of being drafted at the Army Base outside the village of Koufovouno, right opposite the Turkish border. Somewhere where he could be far away from her. To impress her with his dedication to his King and Country as well as his worthiness as a soldier and a warrior.

But Hera had changed his plans and had arranged for him to be sent to Alexandroupoli for more safety. He let his own cowardice win him over and he had followed the Queen's orders. Looking back, he wished he had had the courage to stand up to her authority, even if he had revealed the real reason he had chosen Koufovouno over Alexandroupoli. But no. Once again, he had done as he had been told. Follow orders. Know his place. Watch his sister from afar and get used to being invisible to her. Just another of her future subjects.

 _Next time, it is you who'll take the bow._

Perhaps that's what she had meant the morning after she had succumbed to him and he to her, in that cheap hotel in London. That he would follow her around like a puppy. Annoyingly begging for his mistress's attention.

 _Enough already!_

No more reminiscing. That one night had been a mistake. Something they would be too ashamed to look back on, even when they would have grown old and their memories would have turned into comforting proof of a life well-spent. Their one-night-stand would remain that way. No repetitions. He would move on with his life and she with hers. Every chance of them falling back into that snake pit had vanished the minute she had closed the door behind her, leaving him behind to linger the mix of smells in the room - her perfume, strong and dominant, mixed with those of their sweat and their lovemaking.

She had left him there, unable to do anything but relive the night before in his dreams over and over again. With a proud smile on his face. Like he had just conquered a very important city.

Three hours later, he had been walking around in the city, trying to clear his head, when he had stopped by an electronics store. All six TV screens were showing images from a French TV channel. He saw her in Paris, outside the Elysée Palace, being greeted by the French president. The same evening, in his very own hotel room, which she had not cursed with her domineering presence, he had found the same station and watched her arrive again at the Elysée, dressed in a floor-length gown that perfectly hugged her figure, brought out her eyes and highlighted her smile...

He slapped himself across the face.

 _Stop doing that!_

She wasn't that big of a deal as a woman. She was beautiful, yes, stunning even, but that was it. There would come other women after her. Rows and rows of them. No strings attached. They would all make him forget about her, little by little, until he could look her in the eyes and call her by her name. It had been two months, after all.

Besides, if she had truly cared for him too, she would have arranged a visit to his Base. They were in Thrace, on the border to Turkey and Bulgaria. The most uncertain part of Greece. One thing done wrong and a diplomatic crisis could break out, if not even a war. If she wanted people to believe she was indeed taking her job seriously, she ought to have arranged a visit. Her not coming meant only one thing - she did not want to see him. She had regretted it and now she was trying to make him forget all about her by torturing him.

She was everywhere these days. All the newspapers featured her in their front pages, the radio wouldn't stop giving updates on her tour and her whereabouts. And he would always tune in just in time for the news, just to hear her name being mentioned and to feel proud of her, thriving in her role.

Perhaps she had found herself another man. Someone who did not know her as well or who would never respect her as much as he did. But who would be more preferable in any case. Because he wouldn't be related to her, by blood or by law. Someone who would never cause the King trouble because he would be gone as soon as he had entered her life. Whom she would have pushed away from her because she feared commitment.

She hit and run.

Just like him.

They were awfully similar, those two. Yet so different. So close and still far apart.

Even if she took him back in her arms, their affair would have to remain a closely guarded secret. For if the King found out, he would strip them both of their royal status and to hell with laws and traditions. Aphrodite might be able to get away with it but Ares would certainly not. Zeus had already threatened him too many times. He ought to behave himself or he'd lose the little privileges he had. He should control his temper or he'd put them all in trouble.

He should not chase after her because he would destroy everything they had fought for.

Zeus had told him so once, as a joke. Meaning that he should be less overprotective of her because she might rid him of his titles the minute she became Queen.

It had sounded like a nightmarish prospect back then. But now, it had become his greatest wish.

He clenched his fist. He wanted to feel pain, to punish himself for falling into the trap again.

Screw her! Her and everything she had done to him! He had other things to do. They gave him very little time to think about chasing after a woman that would forever be above him.

And he would willingly be crashed beneath her, always following her lead.

Just like during their scorpion dance.

* * *

 _Mid-morning_

 _Royal Palace, Athens_

Hi, I'm exhausted.

You probably know that by now but I felt I should make it clear in case I hadn't gotten my point across all the previous times.

I never give Zeus Almighty credit for anything, but I give him that: he does know how to punish people. When he had first told me that he'd have me travel all over the country within two weeks, I had thought he had been exaggerating.

Turns out he was not.

Just today, I have to do the round of Peloponnese, travel to the islands of Salamis, Poros, Spetses and Hydra (those are close to Athens, thank goodness) and still be to the Royal Palace by eight o'clock, because I have to join The Big Boss in greeting the Prime Minister and the Minister of Foreign Affairs for a private five-course dinner in which we will discuss Greece's relationship with its allies and the effects my tour had on strengthening its diplomatic ties with other European countries and with the U.S..

And as soon as I'm done with mainland Greece, I'll have to tour the nearby islands. All two hundred and twenty-seven of them. And that is the official number. Greece has between six hundred and two thousand islands in total. No one knows their exact number, not even The Big Boss himself and he is the head of the country. Whoever is responsible for making the maps must be too bored to count them all. I can't really blame them, though, can I?

Anyway, back to tonight's dinner. Zeus Almighty thinks that it'll be interesting for me since our Minister of Foreign Affairs is a woman, who also descends from a political dynasty and her father had been elected as the Conservative Prime Minister fifteen years ago. But she's in her fifties, divorced, and a mother of two. Spot the similarities and you get to join us.

But, I do take some comfort in the lava cake, which will be our dessert today. The Head Chef of the Palace can make a very mean one and he has not changed the recipe since I was eight. Basically, it was his chocolate creations that gave him a special place in my heart. I mean, it's chocolate, for heaven's sake! Who doesn't like chocolate? It can cheer you up, make you feel like falling in love, do wonders for your mood, and it can bring people together.

It's how Mother had made me like her in the first place.

Just kidding. I never had a troublesome relationship with her. She's the only one of my parents to have given birth to me. And who would make me listen to _You Don't Own Me_ every morning as soon as my English was fluent enough for me to understand what Lesley Gore had been singing, because Mother wanted me to be a strong, stubborn, and independent woman. As much as I could be, anyway.

And if you think that I once belted the heck out of this song, standing barefoot on a counter during Karaoke Night at a bar full of people in Downtown New York, you're absolutely right.

What can I say, I was studying Political Sciences at Columbia, _Coyote Ugly_ had just premiered and I had to fly back to Greece in two days, to attend all those engagements on the list which Zeus Almighty's secretaries had faxed me that very morning. Yes, I had been the only student at that campus with a fax machine in her dorm room. And bullet proof windows.

Actually, that just reminded me I should ask whether the windows in the Royal Suite have been replaced with bullet proof ones as well. Because, as you can guess, some things never change in this family.

Especially those twenty minutes of me sitting in the Waiting Salon for Zeus Almighty to finish whatever it is he is doing in that office of his. Except that, this time, it had been me - and not him - who had her Private Secretary call one of his and arrange for me to have an audience with him.

Told you I'd be the innocent one for a change.

But honestly, I no longer know if this obligatory waiting time is a policy of equal treatment or another punishment for me having broken one of the windows in the Grand Salon when I was five. Hopefully, it'll end at some point. While I'm still alive, preferably.

Today, the King's Private Secretary #2 (we like that one) comes in to tell me that "His Majesty would see me now" and then have me follow her through the Entrance Hall, into the small anteroom (to keep state secrets away from prying ears) and into the actual King's Office.

He must love this room a lot. There are plenty of other rooms in here that could work perfectly as settings for father/daughter meetings. But no, he has to be in this one every single time.

Lest we forget who he is.

I have to wait by the door for two seconds for her to announce me:

"The Crown Princess, Your Majesty."

She steps aside, I walk in, she curtsies, walks out, closes the door behind her, and I am left on my own with Mr. Big Boss in all his glory.

What he has left of it, rather.

"Ah! Aphrodite!" he says the minute he sees me. Either I had done something right or he and Hera had finally made up, because he seemed happy to see me? That, or a comet is about to collide with the earth right on this very building, and he no longer has to worry about his low approval ratings since the world will be coming to an end six years earlier than 2012.

Still, I kiss him on both cheeks - like any good daughter does -, take a step back and curtsy.

"How nice to see you!" he adds, before indicating to the small sitting room next to the double doors from which I entered: "Please!"

As per custom, I follow his lead. He takes his place on the sofa and I sit on the armchair next to him. And suddenly, I feel like I am about to be given yet another lecture on how I ought to conduct myself.

Those seem to have become a habit lately.

Instead, after a short and awkward moment of silence, he says: "I understand you wanted to see me?"

"Yes," I reply. Then, taking Grandmother Rhea's letter out of my purse, I say:

"I know who my intended is."

I better keep this audience as brief as possible. Good for me, the helicopter is going to land in the Royal Palace Gardens in about five minutes and then I will fly straight to the island of Salamis to visit the largest Naval Base in the country. I have to change into something more appropriate beforehand, too. Audiences with the King call for a different dress code compared to visits in harbour docks. I can't wear high heels when meeting the Marines.

And while I am stressing out over this, Zeus Almighty is reading the letter which I handed him. He instantly recognized his mother's handwriting. After all, since she had moved to Crete some twenty years ago, the weekly correspondence was her only way of communicating with us. They do have phones over there, but she despises those.

I played just the right card. The Big Boss loved his mother way too much to accuse her of meddling in his family affairs. He looks surprised at first, then concerned, cautious, bewildered, and relieved. In that order.

Then I snap: "I would like to meet him."

He grins. He always looks scary when he does that:

"I knew you would finally come to your senses."

That sounds like a threat, actually, but thank you.

"I shall have our secretaries arrange it as soon as your tour is over. I do hope, however, that you have learned your lesson."

The photographs. Again. Of course.

Unless... No, it can't be... Does he know? About London? About me and... him?

Well, that's impossible. As far as I'm concerned, I'm still alive and Father Dearest has not reached for any guns.

He would have, if he had known. He's Greek, first and foremost. And born in Crete. Imagine Texas if it had been an island. Full of intemperate, loud, crazy Southerners with weapons they have inherited from their great-grandfathers and the sole duty to defend their family's honour, no matter how many people they'd have to kill.

And Zeus Almighty has an entire collection of pistols and riffles too.

Yet here he is again, handing me back my letter and smiling like the Joker. Oh, no. I know that grin. Like the back of my hand. He cheated on Hera (again...) and he has no other way to make up with her unless I speak some sense into her. He is just smiling like that because he is summoning up the courage to ask me that favour.

You know what, enough with the protocol, let's get down to business:

"I won't do it."

"Why not?"

"I believe _you_ are the one married to the Queen!"

"She won't listen to me."

"I thought your bedrooms were adjacent."

"This is not the point. It's because of something I have done." He leans over to me and I to him so that no one will listen to our secret, even though we are on our own and the doors are sound-proofed.

"Now," he adds. "I want you to listen to me. Very carefully."

* * *

Hera sat before the dressing room mirror in her bed chamber. Removing her hair clip, she let her hair fall down on her shoulders, allowing her personal hairstylist to take a closer look. The Queen looked at herself in the mirror. Her dresser had been right; her hair did need to be taken care of as soon as possible.

Since she had left Zeus in August, she had paid little attention to appearance. Looking back, she had acted like she had wanted to mourn for something. The end of her marriage, perhaps. She did have that weight on her shoulders, like she had lost something very dear to her, be it her husband or her dignity - or both. Her behaviour did not differ much from that of a Greek widow. When those mourn their deceased husbands, they don't dye or cut their hair. They also wear black clothes. The older and more tradition-loving ones wear them for life, but most of the widows nowadays return back to their normal appearance after three years, which is how long the normal mourning period lasted nowadays.

In the past, Hera's vanity had been her refuge. She would have her hair trimmed and dyed every three to four months and she would follow her skincare routine religiously. It had been the one prize for life in the spotlight she did not mind paying. It had felt more like a privilege than an obligation, being able to afford expensive cosmetic products and allowing herself the luxury of overindulging in them. Throughout her marriage, taking meticulous care of herself had kept years of infidelity and a busy public life to leave their mark on her.

If she believed her beautician, they had not. As she would often put it, "Her Majesty always looks gorgeous". In fact, some bold journalists had even dared to go as far as to say that she had been better looking than Aphrodite. She had a square face, a large but not enormous forehead, an impressive jaw structure, large green eyes, and full lips. The perfect mix between her Greek and Russian ancestry. She had very distinctive facial traits which drew all eyes on her. A royal historian had written about her that she had "the face of all the medieval queens who commanded respect and had ruled over empires". Her own daughters kept telling her how they wished they would age as well as she had done - much as she hated being told that she was no longer young. Even Aphrodite had admitted to admiring the way Hera could don tiaras and parures.

Yet, Hera occasionally doubted her looks, but her self-care would never go beyond the use of cosmetic products. She knew other Queens married into royalty who had taken more drastic measures with their appearance. They had gone under the knife a year or two into their wedding, or they had tried to hide their real age by using botox and face lifts. As a matter of fact, she, too, had considered a nip and tuck occasionally, but she despised the idea. She had heard many stories and had met many women who had had plastic surgery and did not like the final result, or who had ended up resembling a plastic doll rather than a real person. It had been the only issue on which she and Aphrodite had ever seen eye to eye.

Hera shook her head. She had no idea why she was thinking about the mourning traditions of the Greeks or of the ways other Queen Consorts and First Ladies dealt with aging under the spotlight. Still, she and Zeus had been so far apart from one another lately that they might as well be living in different planets. But things were still not over between them. She had already taken care of some issues. The "boy" would soon be out of the picture for good and both the King and the Queen would go on with their lives, treating each other as spouses in public but acting like strangers in their own home in private. Each would go on with their duties, and, when the occasion called for it, they would appear on each other's side, holding hands, and seemingly worrying about each other's well-being. Nevertheless, they would still be a team. They had no idea how to work otherwise.

Her hairstylist brushed her hair and asked:

"Shoulder-length honey blond, Ma'am? As usual?"

"No, I would like some change. How about layered Golden Dirty Blond? With dark highlights?"

Hera was determined to go for a lighter colour. Something she had never dared before. But she needed something to cheer her up and a whole new hairstyle had been the safer and quickest way to do it.

After all, she was only fifty-one years old. Young enough to still enjoy making a few bold choices about her appearance.

* * *

Maybe it's because I attended the Athens Pride parade last year and became the first-ever member of the Royal Family - of _any_ Royal Family - to openly support the LGBT+ community... Or it was the quote that I had once said, that "Love is love and it should know no boundaries, rules, or fear". There was also this drag queen, known as Darla Trix and addressed as _she_ when in full costume, who was my best and most famous impersonator and to whom I had given plenty of advice on how to pull off custom-made couture evening gowns the first time we met.

In short, I am the most open-minded royal out there on that issue...

But this doesn't mean I can't be shocked at Father ( _Father!_ ) being a part-time bisexual... He is the very definition of patriarchy, of the dominance of the alpha-male, of the "old world order", of anything and everything I have ever blamed on men during my various feminist rants with my friends...

Typical. I leave the country for six months and chaos ensues.

And all the while, Zeus Almighty keeps looking just like Blanche after she gets caught eating the toilet paper. Except that he can talk in words:

"I would feel much better if I had any kind of reaction from you, Aphrodite."

I press my lips together, count to five and try not to breathe.

 _Try._

I can't keep it in any longer. I burst out laughing. That kind of big guffaw that brings tingles in my stomach, tears in my eyes, and then leaves me rolling on the floor, trying to catch my breath.

Also known as one of the ten cardinal sins that you could possibly commit before your King. Who, during all that time, has kept his eyes fixed on me, as if I could ever dare deny such a tempting offer.

I do not roll on the floor, since I still have to be modest, but gosh, I have not laughed like that in the longest while.

Now, _that's_ a story to tell the grandchildren!

Sorry. Let's take a deep breath. Now, breathe out. I always laugh when I'm shocked. It's a reflex. I am actually banned from attending funerals of significant people - U.S presidents and the like - because all of Father's aides are worried that I might burst out laughing at the most inappropriate moment.

"All right!" I say, still giggling. "I will talk to her."

He looks relieved. He brings his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. Pretty sure he also whispers a very inaudible 'thank you', now that I have restored his selfishness and his chauvinism back to their rightful places.

You might be wondering what is going on and I don't blame you. See, Father and I have a weird love/hate relationship. Really. Psychologists blame our awfully similar personalities and different genders for that and state that this is why we fight like cats and dogs the one minute and act like we're cut from the same cloth the next. We tease each other, I respect him, he prepares me for my future role, and that's during the times when I don't hate him for ruining my life and he doesn't despise me for putting his reputation and legacy in tatters. And then we remember everything bad we have ever done to one another and, hoopla, the tables turn again.

It's a vicious circle, to put it simply.

Weren't we as famous and powerful, all high and mighty as we are, I'd have suggested we become a case study. Surely someone out there would have been interested in examining our relationship and observe our mood changing from completely sane (tee-hee) to us wanting to kill each other. Four hundred pages full of theory that no one will understand and only very few will read, just so we can figure out something that we, the individuals directly concerned and involved, will never be able to understand.

And to think that, once, I had wanted to become a psychologist. I studied Political Sciences instead. Zeus' persistence.

There. There it is. What I was talking about. He commands, I obey. He's the King, I'm the subject. He's the father, I'm the daughter. He's the head and I'm the neck. And I can turn the head in any way I want.

Oh, sorry. Yeah, Hera's the neck. This title always goes out to the wife. Or the mother. Well then, I'm the shoulders. I support both and can stretch out my arms to touch them both. Which is what he's asking me to do. Which I haven't done in two years. Last time Hera and I were in the same room, I was sent into exile for "inappropriate behaviour". And now me, the vagabond, the prodigy, have to lecture Hera on marriage and infidelity and to convince her to take her husband back into her bed and her life (those two are interconnected in a relationship) because apparently, she's stubborn as a mule.

But now, Zeus Almighty is in too deep and I'm the only one in here who's open-minded enough to help him out of the void.

Now, that'll be fun.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: As promised, here is the chapter with the Aphrodite/Hephaestus action! I'm very, very sorry for the late update but exhaustion took its toll on me, followed by a terrible writer's block. I spent days troubling over this chapter and this is the result. Aka, what I do to cover plot holes, finish story lines, and move on with the plot and with everyone's lives.**

 **Fun fact 1: The part with the private quarters at the Royal Palace is fictional. The actual GRF used the Palace of Tatoi as their private residence (I think since the 1920s / 1940s or so) and they only used the Royal Palace as their "office". Like what the Spanish and the Dutch Royal Families do. For the Brits, imagine Clarence House being the main residence of the Royal Family and Buckingham Palace being used only for state dinners and the like. I drew most of my information on the Private Quarters mentioned in here from the ones in the Presidential Palace in Cyprus (because the ones in the White House are too elaborate and spacious for Greece :P)**

 **Fun fact 2: I watched a Greek Cypriot documentary the other day about Aphrodite (called "The Great Goddess of Cyprus"), where they clarified why Aphrodite married Hephaestus in Mythology. Aphrodite, nicknamed "Kypris", was the goddess/protector of Cyprus. In ancient times, the island's main extraction was copper (hence the name 'Cyprus'). Copper had as much value back then as gold has nowadays and it made Cyprus one of the wealthiest places in the Mediterranean, aka the known world at the time. Since Aphrodite was the Great Goddess of Cyprus, she was also the "owner", so to speak, of the island's copper. So, the Ancient Greeks had her marry the blacksmith of Olympus and the God of Fire to highlight the importance of copper in craftsmanship. Like some sort of business deal. But, I guess, because they really loved their symbolisms and their gossip, they also had her hook up with Ares to add some fuel to the fire (pun intended :P) and make things exciting.**

 **Just a trigger warning: there are mentions of termination of pregnancy, although I do not go into graphic detail.**

 **Reviews welcome!**

* * *

 _1 December 2006_

 _Royal Palace, Athens_

I'm in trouble. I think.

I don't even know why I agreed to help Zeus Almighty in the first place. It might have been the usual course of action, for me to interfere when things between him and his own wife get rough, but Hera and I haven't sat down to have a "decent" conversation (without her acting like she'd want to murder me, that is) since I was about fourteen and everyone wanted to portray me as a cute and innocent young girl on the verge of womanhood.

Little did they know…

But that is not the point. The thing is that I have to be the one to rescue the marriage of two middle-aged people who, apparently, also have trouble talking things through and trying to come up with an arrangement fitting enough for everyone. This whole thing started when I was about sixteen and had helped Father make up with Hera, because she had threatened with divorce. For the first time after years of infidelity and illegitimate children. Long story short, another half-sibling of mine had been born back then and the mother was pulling off a Billy Jean but, luckily for us all, Zeus Almighty ain't no Michael Jackson. I know, it's unbecoming of me to use 'ain't'. It's what spending time with my friends - the real ones - does to me. But not among other royalty and, certainly, not among Hera. Unless I want to shock her. Which will make matters worse now, of all days.

To say I am nervous would be an understatement. Since last night, I have an odd feeling in my stomach, like some mild period cramps though I am sure that this is not the case. It's stress. I am about to be in the same room with the Queen, in private, for the first time since before she sent me to exile. The last time had been painful and humiliating enough. This time, hopefully, the circumstances are better. It's not as if I wanted to get involved in Father's marriage in the first place... She won't divorce him. She might use it to threaten her husband, but it's their usual row. He cheats, she leaves, he apologizes, she forgives, they get along, then all over again.

Someone, please, make a soap opera out of it! The boring kind, the ones that go on for decades and don't even have a storyline anymore.

I admit, I do watch one or two of them occasionally. It's the only thing that helps fall back asleep when I wake up in the middle of the night. Ridiculous dialogues...

Anyway. Hera agreed to see me after both mine and Zeus Almighty's secretaries insisted. Everything is arranged via our secretaries to the point where I highly doubt we are a normal family anymore. The closest thing I have to that is Mother's side. Those people really don't have trouble arranging the simplest tasks - although a huge debate always occurs because there are too huge a family - but the only thing their secretaries do is to keep them updated on the correspondence and latest news on their businesses and finances. In my royal side of the family, however, the Private Secretaries often act as the negotiators who ensure the world's harmonious balance. Honestly, give them the Nobel Peace Prize.

Now, a few boring information on architecture: the Royal Palace is not just huge drawing rooms, staircases, conference rooms, Reception Halls and offices. It's actually a three-story mansion built in 1909, and only the first two floors (ground and first floor) are used as "the" Palace. Most of the third floor used to be the Royal Family's private quarters, but it was turned into the Private Secretaries' offices for practicality. As for the people who remain here, new private quarters have been built. They include our bed chambers, three guests rooms, the Queen's private study, two bathrooms, a small kitchen, a dining room big enough for all of us, and two sitting rooms in case we want to play Happy Families. The small one actually has a sofa, two armchairs two coffee tables and a TV set (complete with a DVD player). The bigger one, which is adjacent to its tiny counterpart, is where we usually receive our friends. It has three sofas, three armchairs, a big mahogany coffee table in the middle, and no electronics. We hardly use it frankly, since the Grand Salon on the main Palace is bigger, more spacious, and it's where we get to bond with our guests of honour during state visits.

The private quarters are the only place in the entire Palace which every new Queen is allowed to redecorate, as long as she does not exceed the budget set out by the government. Queen Rhea had kept things simple: practical furniture, earthly colours, a place which really felt like home. And we have lots of pictures to prove it. The walls in the living room were painted a mocha cream, the curtains were a lively burgundy, matching carpets, and the furniture colours varied from chocolate brown to Newport blue. It wasn't the best decoration and pretty sure it was considered awful in the 1970s too, but Grandmother had refused to hire a decorator, stating she had other things to worry about. She gave the rest of the money to charity instead. Which Hera obviously prompted against after she took over. She simply loves her grandeur and so she decorated the private quarters as if we are still in the "official" rooms of the Royal Palace. She replaced the colourful Barclay sofas with cream white Victorian ones, painted the walls a golden beige, replaced the footstools with armchairs, had the coffee tables refurbished, and ordered new china plates and crystal vases. She even changed the beds but not the nightstands or the wardrobes because the Socialist government of the time thought her tastes were awfully costly. But, if her goal was to make those quarters damn stuffy, congratulations, she achieved it.

Now, it might sound like the description of a Presidential rather than a Royal Palace and here's why: my great-grandparents, King Uranus and Queen Gaia, as well as all other monarchs before them, lived in the Palace of Tatoi, using the Royal Palace exclusively for their official duties, which included state dinners and the inauguration of every new government. Apparently, that wasn't good enough for Grandfather, who thought that living twenty kilometres north of the centre of Athens was like living on the other end of the world and, following his ascent, he had moved into the Royal Palace for good. He had actually issued for the private quarters to be built above the extension of the main building which housed the Reception and the Credential Halls. The process lasted two years, from 1962 to 1964, three years before he was sent into exile by the newly-arisen Junta. He had also instructed that the "new" floor is built in the same nineteenth-century style as the rest of the Palace, outwardly and as far as the doors on the inside were concerned. He also did it because Grandma Rhea disliked Tatoi. She used to call it "ghastly" and was terrified of the sight of a statue in the garden, right in front of the house, resembling the Grim Reaper - or Charon, to give the Greek name - riding his horse. I think it's supposed to depict a Greek warrior ready to throw himself in the battlefield but no one knows for sure. I keep joking that he looks like my uncle, Prince Hades, but no one thinks it's funny. Least of all, Zeus Almighty and Grandmother Rhea.

Apparently, I'm the only person on this earth lucky enough to have been blessed with the sight of Uncle Hades in his black cape, at three in the morning, in the forest of Mon Repo, taking his three dogs (Greek shepherds, all of them) out for a walk and a game of catch. You know. Like normal people do… What was I doing out there? Good question. I wanted to paint and was hiding in the bushes, trying to catch the perfect shade of midnight blue and the colour of leaves under the moonlight. No, not a single eccentric in this family. None at all. Anyway, I was lying on the grass behind a rose bush, staring at the summer full moon, the enormous, perfectly round, orange-y beauty, when I saw a ball flying over my head, heard dogs barking, and saw the Man in Black making his way through the forest with this floor-length black cape of his. He showed his face right above mine, which - if you excuse the language - scared the living crap out of me. I screamed, he screamed, the guards heard us, cuffed poor uncle Hades and he started to shout so much and so loudly that the rest of the Royal Family gathered on the scene. Like any normal person who has been abruptly awoken, they were not in the best of moods. They must have thought there was another _coup d'etat_ and we'd have to be held as hostages in one of our Palaces again, like in 1967. It wasn't until my own shock wore off that I recognized him and shouted at him for frightening me so. Long story short, he hasn't spoken to me since. And it's been ten years.

To the defense of my drawing skills, I did get the right shade of midnight blue in the end. The painting is called "Full Moon on a Summer Night", it hangs proudly at my mother's dining room and a friend of hers who's a curator at the MET keeps asking me to display it there. Take that, Prince Charles!

Yes, sorry. I got carried away again. Back on topic.

So, here I am, right now, in the big sitting room in the private quarters, waiting for my end to come. Must have become a habit of Hera's to be pacing up and down the room, arms crossed in front of her, when we are in the same room. Neither of us is talking. Even I know that she is furious with her husband's cowardice, sending the peace corps instead of facing her himself.

We decided to hold the discussion exclusively in French, because some things are better told in a foreign language. Not that French felt like it for either of us. I grew up with a French nanny who had trouble speaking Greek and Hera spent a lot of time in France when she was young. We even have the accents down to a T.

Also, since we are on our own, and there is no need for pomp, the protocol is not followed. That's the only protocol kept among royalty: there is no royal protocol. Except for when there are other people and cameras around.

"It's not pleasant for me to be here, either," I let out after having spent the last five minutes observing her endless nervous pacing.

She keeps it up for a little while longer, until she finally says:

"If you do speak to your father, you might wish to let him know that I will talk things through with him myself. When the time comes. You have interfered in this marriage long enough."

 _Interfered_? Lady, I am not one of his mistresses, neither did I introduce him to any of them. Not since last time I checked anyway. Though it would have been a great revenge, for all the things she had done to me. But I am not that terrible. I have to give it to her though, Hera is stubborn as a mule. And still very much in love with her husband. If she wasn't, or if she loved him less, she would have left him years ago. It's not like she did not have the chance, now, is it?

"Is that why you agreed to see me?" she asks, sitting down on the armchair opposite me.

"No."

She doesn't show whether or not my negation surprised her. Neither does she make any remarks to prove so or otherwise. As she is pouring herself a cup of coffee, I summon up the courage to ask her what I have had in mind for a few days now. I don't really care that Zeus and Hera have not talked things through in two weeks and are only putting on a show in case the servants eavesdrop. But we do not need to fear such a thing in here. All of them are dismissed from the quarters for our meeting, except for the two security aides standing in front of the main entrance.

Twirling my cup on the saucer, I asked:

"What do you know of Hephaestus? I hear Father has taken quite the liking to him."

And that's how I get her off guard. About time that was. She keeps her eyes fixed on me. I further: "All I know about him is what you call him. The Quasimodo, isn't it?"

"You obviously know more than that," she replies. "Why don't you give me the whole story?"

There she did it again, gaining the upper hand! Can't I hide from this woman even once?

"I know that he is my intended." I try as much as possible to hide my suspicions that she is the driving force behind it all. Better not add fuel to the fire just yet.

"You seem to know all there is to know already." She stands up to leave, but stops when I say:

"Not quite."

And just like that, I throw the bomb. It is only one question, but an impossible one to ask. For the past four days I kept phrasing and rephrasing it in my head, and now I am about to say it out loud. The feeling on my stomach returns, slightly more intense this time, and I try not to let it show. But it's hard when you have an expressive face. I place the saucer with the cup on the coffee table in front of me. I had better just put it simply:

"Did you send me on that tour so that you and Father can arrange it in peace?"

She… laughs? Well, that is unexpected.

"Don't be ridiculous," she says. "The last thing I want is to see you married to this creep. It wouldn't look good for you as a future queen, to marry someone that can barely stand."

Although her words should have reassured me, they do not. On the contrary. They make matters worse. She proceeds to give me the lecture on how our family's reputation is already bad and Zeus' renewed unpopularity sets the Monarchy in hot water. Yet, the people expect me to carry on the legacy and I had better be careful. I ought to find the perfect consort. Preferably someone who is handsome enough to enchant everyone instead of making them frightened and disgusted at a mere sight of him. But, Zeus is the King and he has been the one who has brought forth political stability. Hephaestus does seem like the kind of spouse that would never complain. He is no stranger to hard work or public scrutiny. He could keep me out of trouble, which the people, and the rest of the Royal Family, should be grateful for.

And that's how you know she has been married to Zeus for twenty years.

She confuses me. So, she disapproves of the match, but approves of it at the same time? Hephaestus is bad for my reputation but good for the Crown? But I am the Crown! She, of all people, should know that its future lies on my hands. Scary as it sounds.

She goes on talking, but I do not pay any attention to her words. Until she says:

"Besides, it is not as if you don't know how to deal with unpleasant surprises."

I do not know what she means by that. I draw a deep breath, ready to speak, but then Hera mouths one simple word:

 _Avortement._

Abortion.

How did she….?

"Oh, I know all there is to know," she adds as if she's reading my mind.

This is scary. A joke. That's it, that's what it is. A very bad joke.

I want to leave, but I can't go anywhere. I don't want to give her the satisfaction that she has defeated me again.

This is confidential information. Only Mother and her doctor know about it. I had used an alias. I had made sure that no one, ever, found out about it. Especially the Royal Family. But Hera always knows a little too much:

"Committed in New York, which is a convenient enough distance to keep a secret. A few days before your father asked you to return to Greece, I presume. Isn't that why you had wanted to spend more time with your mother's family after the end of your tour?"

I try to laugh it off, fool her for being wrong, and trying not to prove her accusations:

"This is ridiculous, I'd never do such a thing!"

She raises an eyebrow. My heart is beating wildly. There's this awful pain in my stomach again and I clench my teeth. It is rare, but it always becomes obvious when it happens. And turns me a terrible liar as well:

"Nevertheless," Hera adds. "I doubt this is the kind of information you'd want the world to know."

I cannot disagree with that one. But why is Hera telling me such a thing - sound venomous no less - if there is nothing in it for her?

"Let's make an arrangement, shall we?" she says, crossing her legs one ankle behind the other. "I keep your secret if you agree not to protest the match any further."

"I thought you were supposed to help me get rid of him!" I snap.

"Oh, I am not supposed to help you do anything. We are to do what is best for the country. Zeus thinks that the match shall be beneficial, and we both ought to obey his wishes. If you are still not convinced, you might wish to renounce your rights to the throne. Oh, but I forgot. You have already had your investiture ceremony. Renouncing your rights now might result in a loss of title and you would not want that, would you?"

She was right, I'm afraid. Now it was too late to back down. My investiture ceremony eight years ago had made things final: I was the future queen. Changing my mind would turn the world against me. In the best case scenario, they'd simply rid me of my title and let me live the rest of my life as a private citizen. In the worst one, I'd be classified as a traitor and be exiled from the country. Still, how dare she! I have more political power than her, yet she acts like the superior! No matter the experience she has as Queen, she has remained that little opportunist she was when she had first married my father. I no longer care if she loves him or not. Clearly, she has always loved the title more. But I do not dare say it out loud. My stomach hurts too much for me to do so.

"I believe we have nothing left to say," she lets out.

That is my cue to leave. Which I am more than happy to do. I know that there is a line that has to be drawn somewhere. I have to protect my own dignity but she knows the one secret I have been trying my hardest to hide since I returned from the tour. But whom am I kidding? No matter how hard I try to fool Hera, she always finds a way.

Still, how did she find out about the abortion? Mother certainly did not tell her, they never speak to one another. The doctor would never reveal my identity, being bound by the confidentiality that came with his profession. As for maids, they were left behind, occupying my Royal Suite just in case trouble arises with the hotel administration.

Unless…

I have to rush back to the Royal Suite. I have to make sure that it is still in there. I always knew better than to trust my second maid…

* * *

Zeus was not worried about the outcome from Aphrodite and Hera's meeting. Only the fact that Hera had agreed to see her step-daughter was a good omen. She had changed her mind. She was ready to listen to his side of the story now. And he would tell her everything. No more secrets between them.

But for now, he had to take care of another, more urgent matter. It did not concern the Government. Worse still, it was about his own family. And that boy.

"You must have heard of the rumours and the whispers, Sir," his Private Assistant told him. "Some items, some precious artifacts, are missing from various rooms of the Palace."

For better or worse, Eris was there too. Throwing in her own two cents at the discussion:

"They are missing from the Reception Hall, the Library, and the Dining Room. Among others."

"Thank you, Your Highness," the PA added. "Now, most of the missing items are a courtesy of the National History Museum, the National Gallery and various other institutions who demand that they are found immediately. One of them, speaking on everyone's behalf, stated that they suspect the young trainee at the Palace, which was hired last year."

Zeus was alarmed, although he pretended not to look it:

"Which young trainee?"

"Ganymede, Father," Eris said. "No one else was hired last year."

"His internship is coming to an end, Sir. But the stealing has only recently been reported."

"The servants discussed it constantly, of course, in the kitchens and the corridors, when they thought no one was listening. You know Mother's views on gossip, Father, that is why we have found out about it so late."

"So, are you saying that the servants knew all along and kept quiet?" Zeus asked. He was angry at this young man, for he had finally shown his true colours: an opportunist, who was trying to profit by taking advantage of his position. Worse still, he had witnessed the King at a moment of weakness. His worst one. Still, Zeus could not accuse him of anything without solid proof.

"I am saying that they were trying to tell us, but could not, because we wouldn't listen," Eris replied. "One day, my own maid was caught and she told me everything. There is no doubt about it, Father. He is the thief."

The PA agreed. Zeus needed yet another of those cigars he had managed to hide from Hera in his office, and he would have taken one, wasn't Eris in front. He had a rule of thumb: never to smoke in front of his children. Although he was pretty certain that Eris was a smoker too. He could smell it on her.

Pushing that thought aside, he tried to come up with a plan on the spot:

"I say you find his home address and that of all of his close relatives. We will send a few aides who will question them, see how they react. But be careful, they ought not to be scared, or panicked. I wouldn't want them to call the journalists, it would cause havoc unnecessarily. Just question them and see if they are telling the truth. Remove all the money from his bank account, but do not fire him until we have found the artifacts. And ask all of the servants if they have seen anything suspicious going on too. Let's get it over and done with."

Eris was pleased. Her mother's plan was going as it should! Better that they had planned it, even!

She curtsied and left the room, but she could not tell her mother yet. She was in that audience with that half-sister of hers still… Whatever. She had other things to take care of. She would rush upstairs and ask her maid to hide her collection in a safer place. In case someone entered Eris' room, she wouldn't want her to end up being the accused one.

In the meantime, Zeus asked his PA about any updates on the NIS investigation on Aphrodite's friends, the so-called "usual suspects". He was handed a piece of paper containing about a dozen names, home addresses, phone numbers, even information on their bank accounts. They were precisely the kind of people Zeus had imagined. Over-privileged children who had nothing to do with the Monarchy, except mock it. Children of bankers, journalists and politicians. Some were self-proclaimed "hoodies" and members of the Communist Party Youth just because they were too bored at home and needed a way to rebel. Immature adults acting like teenagers. No, they had to be kept away from Aphrodite or, rather, Aphrodite had to be kept away from them.

"Meet with the Prime Minister," Zeus said. "Show him the list. He knows what to do."

Zeus didn't want his own involvement to be known. If some of them went to prison, so be it. It was best for Aphrodite to keep as far away from them as possible.

And a great excuse for him to hasten her wedding.

* * *

 _Hotel GB, Royal Suite_

I rush into my bedroom first thing. I need to know if it is still in its hiding place. A hidden compartment at the bottom drawer of the chest of drawers serving as my nightstand. Hiding underneath old clothes of mine which I never wear. Whatever it takes to keep that notebook hidden from prying eyes and suspicious minds. I haven't felt my heart beat so wildly in the longest time. My head is spinning. Just how much does Hera know? How did she manage to read it? Did she tell anyone else? Especially... him?

No, no that couldn't be. I hadn't mentioned his name anywhere.

Still. He is her own son. The man that would have been the father.

I toss the clothes all over the room and open the compartment.

There it is.

I take the heavy, black notebook in my hands and examine it closely. No torn pages, and the page mark is right where I left it. It's just how I had left it. But still...

She couldn't have gotten the information from elsewhere. This diary was my most private possession. It's where I put down my thoughts when I am upset, troubled, furious, or devastated. It is more private even than the other diary I keep, the one that will later be archived in the Royal Family's archives at the National Library. The one I am holding is mine, and mine alone. It was where I had written all about the operation. Down to the slightest detail. With a very trembling hand and with tears in my eyes.

The pain in my stomach is gone now, but it does not make matters any better. I am dizzy. Hera certainly knows more than she revealed.

Still, how much does she truly now? And how much is she willing to keep to herself?

Drawing a deep breath, I open it. I won't read what I had written, I never do. I just riffle through the pages, one by one, searching for a kind of sign, anything, that would prove that Hera had blemished it. A ravager like her, surely she must have left an imprint or two behind...

There are none. I keep scanning the words and the pages. I even break the promise I had made to myself never to read it - especially the passage about that horrible day. Yet here I am, reading it over and over again. It makes me want to cry. It all comes back to me. Very vividly. The night at the night club, the morning after, the first symptoms, Mother's suspicions, the pregnancy test, the decision to get rid of it and pretend it never happened... For once, I was grateful for Zeus' punishment, sending me to all those places and engagements. The busier I keep, the less I think about it.

Even though I know very well that I could not have kept it.

I don't know if I want to break things, shout, or cry. Zeus spying on me is one thing. Although I am not comfortable with the thought, I have grown used to it. He does not wish to hurt me, diminish me, or spread rumours about me. He does it to protect me and my reputation. But Hera… By degrading me, she can raise the status of her own daughters. If, somehow, she got that information only from my personal diary, then she knows half the story. Rather, the consequences of it.

Still.

I do not trust her to keep the secret. Perhaps she would have liked to know more. Somehow, sooner or later, she'd reach the bottom line.

As I also ought to.

I ring for my friendly maid and she enters the room almost immediately. She notices the diary in my hands and stops on her tracks. She understands:

"I need you to call my Press Secretary. Tell him I demand to look at all the articles written about me in the past two months. I want every single one, from the gossip magazines to the most quality newspapers. Both the Greek and the foreign ones."

I need to find out if any such rumours were written about me, if any journalists had suspected anything from the way I looked. I know that my tour in the U.S. had disappointed some people. In the pictures, I look tired, not so cheerful compared to the photos from Europe, and occasionally I seem rather lost or overcome with fatigue. Surely, some female journalists themselves must have suspected as much? No matter what, I have to make sure that Father and does not know anything. Worse, what if Ares happened to read one of those articles? How likely is that?

"Yes, Miss," my friendly maid says.

"And, from now on, you are the only person that is allowed to enter this room. It's an order."

"Certainly, Miss."

"Now, go. I don't want to be disturbed by anyone and for whatever reason."

I know I have some public appearances left to do today. My punishment is coming to an end and my schedule is more relaxed. Now I have the luxury of spending twenty minutes to myself. To relax. To think. Just me and my troubled past.

Is this the reason Hera endorses my marriage? Her lecture on doing her duty and listening to her husband's orders was not very convincing. Why would she accept someone she thinks will destroy the family's image, if she wants to gain nothing from it?

I feel nauseous. I can't keep it in. Rushing to the toilet, I let it all out.

After I am done, I remain sitting on the floor, knees bent. For the first time in six months, I remember how alone I really am. Not lonely. I am surrounded by people all the time, even if they do not know me. Least of all, trust me. Poker faces with creepy smiles. They are throwing me into the wolves and call it love. Pretty sure they see my marriage to Hephaestus as a punishment. Yes, another one. For all the sins I had committed when I was younger, and for the ones I am yet to commit. For all the trouble I will cause in the future. A reminder of the demands that came with my position and privilege. The two things I never asked for in the first place.

But I have to meet Hephaestus. It is only a few days away and I am determined to show him the ugly side of me. Perhaps, this way, I can make him disgusted or even frightened. I would show him what the life as the consort of a future monarch was like. Deformities aside, he must possess even the slightest of ego? He was a man, like anyone else, and everyone has it. They ought to. It is their last remnant of honour, what they hold most dear. What makes them the hunters and the demanders and causes them to feel intimidated by stronger or more powerful women.

He is yet another man. I can charm, lure, fool, and frighten him to my own liking. Anything to make him shoo me away and give me back my freedom. I do feel rather guilty at hurting someone like him, but there is no other way.

I have to break his heart. He will certainly find someone else to tend to those wounds. But I have to be the one to pull the knife in his chest.

It is a sacrifice I am willing to make.

I am royalty, after all.

* * *

 _The same evening..._

 _Royal Palace, Athens_

 _Private quarters_

Hera had made up her mind about talking to Zeus three days before her meeting with Aphrodite. Their game of hide-and-seek had gone on for long enough. About time they acted like the grown adults that they were and confronted each other. For the sake of their country first and their family second. They would deal with their own scars later. Each on their own. They would try and heal them. Even if their attempts had gone to waste.

She was in his room, waiting for him to come back from a visit at a naval base. He'd have to face her, like it or not. It was easier for her to bent him when he was tired. HIs exhaustion would take the best of him and, soon enough, he would be shouting and uttering the words he would never say otherwise. She didn't even care about an apology out of him anymore. She didn't need to hear those three words, not anymore. She preferred answers. To make sure that she was still the most important person in his life. His rock. The one he could not live without. Her ladies-in-waiting and her maids had constantly ensured her about it. Yet, she wanted to hear those words coming out from his mouth. To see the humiliation in his eyes and the pain in his voice. To take pleasure in his humiliation for a change. As he had done for years.

Finally, Zeus entered, accompanied by his valet. Hera was sitting on his bed, drinking a glass of red wine. It only took a look at his wife for Zeus to understand the meaning of all this. He dismissed his valet and locked the door behind him. No one else other than those two needed to know the things they would talk about.

He spoke first:

"I am tired."

Hera crossed her legs one knee on top of the other:

"I know."

"Is it an apology that you want? I can cry on your knees, if that will please you."

"Why?"

Her question confused Zeus. Hera explained:

"Why did you sleep with him?"

"We've been through this already."

"You've had three months to think things through, there is no escaping now. Tell me."

Zeus leaned on the wall. He took a good look at his wife. She looked sober enough to have this kind of conversation without causing a scene. Truth be told, her persistence not to listen to him had worn him out. He knew, too, that there was no escaping this kind of conversation. Neither did he want to. The sooner they put an end to that joke, the better:

"It was a time when I was under a lot of pressure. You were busier with keeping a full agenda and worrying about Hebe's education. One night, I got drunk. Very drunk. It was bad. I was thinking just how I had hurt you. All these years, with my infidelities and all. I had made up my mind to put an end to it. To stop having affairs."

"A promise well kept, indeed."

He did notice the sarcasm in her voice.

"I thought you wanted to listen to my story!" Zeus snapped.

"I'd prefer an honest one."

"This is the honest one!"

"So then what? He came to check on you and you were too drunk to think straight?"

"I woke up the next morning feeling the worst I had ever felt. I felt disgusted with myself. I had approached you, because I had hoped you'd-"

"Help you be a man again!"

"Exactly."

Hera kept looking at her husband, looking for the familiar glint in his eyes. The reassuring proof that he was telling the truth. There he was once again, sitting on the side of the bed, the way he had the night she had left for Corfu. Except that now she was the one with the drink in her hands and he was perfectly sober.

"How many times?"

"Hera…"

"Tell me!"

"Once."

"Just so?"

"Just so."

"Have there been others? While I was gone? Women, preferably."

Zeus had no idea what to say. He did not want to admit it to himself, but he had remained faithful to Hera afterwards. Although the urge was too great sometimes, he had promised to himself that he would try to resist it. He wouldn't want to make her delay her return indefinitely. He needed her, like the very air he breathed. Maybe even more. He was not himself when she was away. He could not focus properly or make good decisions. He had postponed numerous public appearances and important engagements, which did plenty of damage to the public's opinion about him. As a way to keep himself busy, he had thrust himself into the country's political matters. He had even broken his promise to the nation to keep out of politics, by taking a position on a controversial political issue, a German private colossus buying one of the country's biggest public companies. There had been major public outcry, both in the media and in the streets, and his approval ratings had reached an all-time low. The lowest of his entire reign. All the while, Aphrodite's popularity grew and many citizens and politicians alike were pressuring him to abdicate. He had come close to flying to Corfu then, to beg Hera to return to Athens. It was one of the decisions he regretted not taking. He had needed her by his side, to give him her advice and guidance. To help him get out of the void. Perhaps he had been too selfish to think that Hera had her own wounds to heal. Those had been deeper. They hurt more. Especially the old ones, which were reopened.

It's what she did now. His thoughts could ease her pain if he put them into words, but he could not bring himself to utter them. He simply told the truth:

"No. There were none."

"I see."

Something in the way she said it made Zeus suspicious:

"You'd better believe me."

"Give me one good reason why I should."

"Because you never do!" he snapped.

"I never do because you don't give me any solid evidence why I should! Every time, every single damn time you promise me you'll stop having affairs and then I find out about new adventures of yours! And it hurts! It hurts far more than you can imagine. I feel degraded, Zeus! Like some… some useless doll you dress up in pretty clothes and put in a fancy house because you know she won't complain! I never asked for this and you know it! You knew it when I had turned you down twice and yet you tricked me into this marriage and now I have had to put up with your humiliation time and time again, sometimes before my very eyes! Am I worth nothing to you? Do you think I don't have feelings or that they don't matter? Let me tell you, I do hurt. And I do feel ashamed. And humiliated. But apparently, none of those things matter at the sight of a young and pret-"

His big, heavy hands on her face, his body pushing her against the wall. His lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth, fighting with hers. It was an uneven battle. Like their marriage. It all happened so quickly. She couldn't breathe. She simply gave in, letting him kiss her with so much passion and hunger, like she hadn't been kissed in years.

He was devastated, too. Hurt by her words and ashamed of having put her in that position. But he could not change who he was. He was the hunter, the commander, the leader of the pack and he had to do as he wanted. Wander off to the unknown whenever he so pleased. But Hera was the woman of his life. His home. He would always come back to her arms because he knew that, no matter what, she'd be waiting for him. Neither of them had anywhere else to go. No one else to turn to. It was hard, being on the top of the world and have no one but each other to share it with.

When their kiss ended, both of them tried to catch their breath. They were not young anymore. Even though they sometimes acted like little children, pushing each other to the limit and making each other cry. As soon as Hera realized what they had done, she slapped him across the face. Zeus was startled and he was looking at her in awe. Hera was proud. It had been long overdue. Zeus understood. The hidden message in her gesture:

"I love you, too."

"Good," she replied. "Always remember that."

Opening the adjacent door, she entered her bedchamber. She had left it slightly open. It was an old, discreet sign. Zeus had not seen it in a long time, but he still knew what it meant.

Tonight, she would not protest him entering her room.

She would wait for him at midnight, when everyone else would be sleeping.

They would become lovers again.

She had forgiven him!

* * *

 _9 December 2006_

Hephaestus read the invitation again:

 _H.R.H Crown Princess Aphrodite requests a private audience with you on Sunday, 10 December 2006 at 4:00 A.M. in the Royal Palace in Tatoi. H.M. the King requests that you use His Majesty's helicopter for your travel to and from the estate._

He could not believe it. She had agreed to see him! They would finally meet, face-to-face. All these years he had spent, attending the same galas and balls as the Royal Family with his parents, he kept watching her from afar, as she made heads turn and was accompanied by a man way more handsome than he'd ever be. He did not even try to approach her. She would never notice him, with all his deformities and... handicaps.

The doctors kept telling him that, by the time he would turn forty, he would need a wheelchair, but he was determined to prove them all wrong. He would keep on walking, even if that meant the would have to use a walking stick for the rest of his life. As long as he could walk, he was happy.

But now, taking a look of himself in the mirror, he thought twice. Perhaps she would not like what she would see. No matter how many times Zeus had told him not to worry, his reflection indicated otherwise. It was obvious that his right shoe had a taller heel than the left one and he could not go on hiding the scars and marks on his hands forever. Somehow, she would look at them and she would certainly be disgusted at the sight. There was also another detail he should tell her about, which was vital for the future of the Monarchy. The one secret he had decided to keep from the King. Hephaestus was so excited to finally get to know the woman of his dreams, and he was so enthralled by the prospect of them getting married, that he had decided to keep his medical history a deep buried secret. If Zeus found out about it, he would put an end to it. All of it. What use would he be to him, and, most importantly, to Aphrodite, then?

He tried not to think about it. They still had to go through a lot of things until their wedding day. They had to make the media believe something about a budding romance, then them being a couple, followed by the engagement announcement and, finally, after two to three months, the much-awaited royal wedding. It would take about six months at least, if they could make the world believe it had all started during her big tour via the correspondence they exchanged. Perhaps they had met somewhere privately before her departure and it all started from there. "Friends turned lovers, everyone loves that kind of love stories", the King had said. But Hephaestus didn't care about the lies they'd have to tell to the nation and the world.

She would be his wife. They would be married. Together for life. Perhaps, over time, she would grow to love him. He was not exactly the kind of man women fell for. But he knew how to treat a lady the way she should be treated. He certainly knew how to tend to the finest, prettiest, and most elegant of those. Like she was a very rare wildflower. One that should be treated with special care, because a touch was enough to kill its beauty.

It's funny, she was his fiancée, one of the most famous women in the world, and yet he knew very little about her. Did she like wildflowers? He had forgotten to ask. What was her favourite colour, or song? But you were not supposed to ask the father of the bride such things. Zeus would never tell him. Should be bring her flowers at the audience? He didn't want to make it look like he was hurrying into it. She would welcome him on her capacity as a royal, not as a woman about to meet her betrothed. He may not be allowed to carry any gifts. Nevertheless, he'd have to make a good first impression. The beard. He had to trim it. Then his suit. He'd have to wear the finest one he owned. Perhaps even find a funny thing or two to say. She was known for her sense of humour and she had said in an interview once that she really liked people - men - who made her laugh. He would try to do so too.

His own parents were also pressuring him to make her like him. He had to marry, and what better offer than the future Queen? He'd be the most important man in the country and have all the privileges that came with it. But he didn't care about any of the titles that fascinated his parents, especially his mother. He only cared about being close to her. And now, he would spend some time in the same room with her.

Like a dream had finally come true.

* * *

 _10 December 2006_

 _Afternoon_

 _Palace of Tatoi,_ _ _Acharnes, North of Athens__

My endless rounds of engagements finally came to an end a few days ago. But I could not bring myself to celebrate. The past few days were an endless blur. I had to keep on following a relatively tight schedule, which involved a lot of public appearances, speeches, and photo sessions. All throughout the process, I had to seem happy and carefree and to be careful enough not to make people understand that something was troubling me. Or that there was something I was trying to hide.

I have not seen Hera since our meeting, and that is possibly the only good thing that happened lately. My Press Secretary did what I had asked of him and gave me all the articles about me. Or, at least, the ones he wants me to read. I knew all along that it would be a rather fruitless investigation, and it turned out to be just that. He even went as far as to give me material from the news agencies, which I knew the King and the Queen also got. Nothing stated or implied anything about the pregnancy, let alone the abortion. Just one mention in a British tabloid (I think it was the _Mail_ ) about me looking tired at a reception at Buckingham Palace but even they blamed my very tight schedule for it. If there was one good thing I achieved by visiting Britain, it was to make the _Mail_ less sexist for a change… Who could imagine…

Yet, the fact that there were no reports about it relieved me. Zeus does not know anything, there is no doubt about that. And I doubt Hera has told him. But even if she has, as long as she does not know who the father is, the secret is still safe.

After all, as long as the Royal Family knows something but the media does not, it never really happened. This has been our way to keep sane despite all those weird rumours over the years.

Suddenly, the old Grandfather's Clock by the fireplace chimes. It is four in the afternoon. The time has come for me to finally meet my intended. Father had been so happy about me meeting Hephaestus that he had arranged for him to arrive at Tatoi with the King's helicopter. I heard the sound of its rotor blades as it landed and have been waiting quietly, for the past ten minutes, for the door to open.

It finally does, and Lydia enters first to "introduce" him. Without further ado, she steps aside, allowing Hephaestus to enter. I am already standing, as is customary before an audience. Although I have seen him many times before, today he looks… different. I am not sure if it is in a good or a bad way. At least he is not as bad-looking as I remembered him. The beard he has grown since the last time I saw him does hide his facial birth defects and I can't help noticing, for the first time in my life, how decent he looks in a suit and that he is slightly taller than me. He is not a hunchback - yet - but he is still far from handsome. Or even relatively good-looking.

I cannot help noticing his gloved hands. I have heard that they had been awfully burned when he was little. The accident had caused a permanent deformity and he has to wear gloves constantly, in public at least.

He bows. Then, holding on to his walking stick, he waits for my instructions. I take a closer look at him. Such a pity, for a young man like him to have to move around like this...

 _Collect yourself!_

I remember my place and my plan. I have to look imperious. Intimidating, even. I will be doing us both a favour by freeing us from this joke of an arrangement.

I try to muster a kind smile and stretch my right arm forward. Hephaestus rushes to kiss the back of my palm:

"Your Highness!"

I do not quite know what to call him. I should address him by his last name, but I ought to show him he is beneath me. That he always will be.

"Sir! Do sit down!"

With a single hand motion, I point to a chair, right opposite the sofa I am sitting on. Between us, on the coffee table, there are two glasses of water - one for each. I had suggested early on that no coffee or any other snack would be served. They would have helped create a friendly atmosphere, which I did not want. I had also made sure that everything on me, from my outfit (a knee-length Chanel black dress with long sleeves, hair in a soft chignon and a white pearl necklace with matching earrings) to my posture underlined my future role as monarch. Hephaestus has surely grown accustomed to the royal protocol by now, and he knows that he should not speak unless spoken to first. Still, I have trouble initiating a conversation and instead waste precious time by taking a good look at him, from head to toes, again and again. I am trying to picture what we would look like, standing next to each other, in official pictures and during public appearances. We would make quite the sight.

People would certainly talk. They would question our reasons for becoming an item, let alone spouses. Over the years, journalists have wasted tons of ink and paper by writing about my love life. About the men that were photographed by my side, making speculations about who would be "the one", some even criticizing me for my choices… Who knew what stories they would come up with, both in Greece and abroad, to explain this odd union? What if they found out about his ancestors' incestuous relationship? No, this arrangement is too much. For both of us.

Father clearly has no idea what he is doing. Unless our marriage certificate comes with a business deal. Surely, some journalists would also suspect as much.

Hephaestus tags on his collar, as if it is choking him. I can tell he also got rather sweaty. My, I have never seen anyone be that nervous…

I decide to say something. It is what my guest is also waiting for, after all:

"His Majesty told me you wished to get married."

He grins like a small child who is being praised:

"Yes!"

His face lights up as he says it, even for a moment, and he looks awfully proud of himself. Which, in return, makes me feel terrible about myself and what I am about to do. But there is not enough time for apologies or regrets. I have a role to keep on playing:

"Now, may I ask, why _me_?"

He is taken aback. After a few seconds of silence, I add:

"You are aware of my position, of the responsibilities my future role ensues. Surely, a husband in a better…" I look for the right word: " Disposition… would have been a much more preferable choice. We spend a lot of time travelling, you see. Would be disastrous if you are unable to… put it simply, catch up."

He brings his hands between his knees. He has grown uncomfortable, perhaps. It will take some time for me to learn his body language, in case there was definitely no escaping him.

"It's a very interesting question, indeed, Your Highness." He soon rushes to correct himself: "I mean, Miss. Miss."

He is still learning the protocol, I see. Correcting him would be useless. It would make him more nervous and intimidated than I wish for him to be:

"I presume, you are aware of my parents' history?"

He looks bewildered:

"Yes, Their Majesties, the King and the Queen-"

"The King and the 'Queen That Never Was'?"

That is the moniker Mother is known by. It was given to her by a conservative journalist who had been one of Mother's staunchest supporters following Father and Hera's. He had wished to show how far superior Mother would always be to Hera. If their personalities were anything to go by, I would agree.

Hephaestus still looks perplexed. I explain:

"You see, Mother was in a very similar position as you. Not physically, but mentally. A woman born in wealth, mingling with royal circles but her being no royalty herself…" I draw a deep breath to give emphasis on my next sentence: "She was young, beautiful, had everything she ever wanted given to her on a silver platter."

"Didn't, uh, make a good combination with the King, did it?"

I do not laugh at Hephaestus' joke, although I agree. He is trying to break the ice between us but I am not willing to help him achieve that feat:

"What I am trying to say is that the role of the consort to the monarch is not just the person walking a few steps behind, or the one that is responsible for childbearing."

He tugs on his collar again.

"Let us not hide from the truth," I further. "The Royal Family, the people, the nation… They will need an heir. And the responsibility falls upon me, to provide them with a strong and healthy baby. Whatever the gender might be."

If this has been a nod to his ancestors' incestuous relationship and to the bad gene which he might have inherited, I can't be sure. I am certain, however, that he, too, has been aware of the importance of reproduction in our world. It is more like our duty to our country than a choice or an act of pleasure. He is concerned about his ability for it, since he is certainly not an asexual. He has agreed to marry me, after all. Unless, his parents, too, are pressuring him. But I do not see it in his eyes. I am his choice! Which makes it all even worse...

"Y-yes, I understand perfectly," he replies eventually.

"And considering my… reputation… The world will be most disappointed to find out I did not end up with someone of… higher standards."

 _Like Ares…_

 _Tais-toi!_

"I promise you, Miss, I will do anything at all to fulfill my-"

We are running out of time and I have to end this audience soon, before Lydia comes knocking on my door to inform me that I need to go back to Athens for yet another engagement. I am back on my normal schedule now, and even though I actually have some free time now, there are still lots to be done:

"His Majesty has high hopes for the match, whatsoever, and I understand he has already blessed the union, which makes us both, officially, betrothed. The rings and the press statement will only seal the deal. I hope you understand that you have already reached the point of no return."

"I- I'm per- perfectly aware of it, M-Miss, yes," he stammers.

"Good. Then I expect you to behave accordingly."

I pretend not to have noticed the stunned look in his eyes. But, as if I was reading his mind, I add:

"We will figure out how we will make our union last over time."

With that, I stand up and allow Hephaestus plenty of time to follow my lead. For that, he has to hold on to both his stick, which he had placed behind his chair, and on the coffee table. I do want to help him, but it would have been both improper - since he is not yet family - and it would quash my attempts to show I am not the least bit interested in him. That our marriage would be an arrangement, a white lie. Nothing more.

As soon as he stands up, I say:

"That is all for now, Sir. It was certainly a pleasure meeting you! Have a nice day.."

Stretching out my right arm again, I wait for him to kiss the back of my hand. I push it back abruptly as soon as his lips touch it and move on to ring the bell on another, taller round table nearby, for a staffer to open the door.

Without further ado, Hephaestus bows and leaves, like the servant does. As soon as the door behind me closes, I exit the room through another door. Making my way to my bedchamber to change, I try to evaluate the meeting. I do not know how I came across. Perhaps I achieved my goal. He did look nervous, rather. But on the other hand, the look in his eyes is familiar. It is the same glance that I have seen in the faces of men falling in love.

 _No, no, no, no, no._

Not that! Anything but that!

Stupid me, that was the one aspect I did not consider.

Of course he has fallen for me! I am definitely his choice! Zeus simply agreed to the match for financial security. To make up for the damage caused by his investments. It's what my friendly maid told me, based on all the gossip at the Palace.

My life would have been better, so much better if Hephaestus had been disgusted by me. Which is what I should try to achieve constantly from now on, I guess.

But how? I am young, beautiful, wealthy, and two signatures away from becoming the most important person in the country.

Of course I make the perfect bride!

It only confirms, more forcefully than all the previous times, what I have known all along: that I have no say in my life.

None at all.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: As promised, here is the chapter with the Aphrodite/Hephaestus action! I'm very, very sorry for the late update but exhaustion took its toll on me, followed by a terrible writer's block. I spent days troubling over this chapter and this is the result. Aka, what I do to cover plot holes, finish story lines, and move on with the plot and with everyone's lives.**

 **Fun fact 1: The part with the private quarters at the Royal Palace is fictional. The actual GRF used the Palace of Tatoi as their private residence (I think since the 1920s / 1940s or so) and they only used the Royal Palace as their "office". Like what the Spanish and the Dutch Royal Families do. For the Brits, imagine Clarence House being the main residence of the Royal Family and Buckingham Palace being used only for state dinners and the like. I drew most of my information on the Private Quarters mentioned in here from the ones in the Presidential Palace in Cyprus (because the ones in the White House are too elaborate and spacious for Greece :P)**

 **Fun fact 2: I watched a Greek Cypriot documentary the other day about Aphrodite (called "The Great Goddess of Cyprus"), where they clarified why Aphrodite married Hephaestus in Mythology. Aphrodite, nicknamed "Kypris", was the goddess/protector of Cyprus. In ancient times, the island's main extraction was copper (hence the name 'Cyprus'). Copper had as much value back then as gold has nowadays and it made Cyprus one of the wealthiest places in the Mediterranean, aka the known world at the time. Since Aphrodite was the Great Goddess of Cyprus, she was also the "owner", so to speak, of the island's copper. So, the Ancient Greeks had her marry the blacksmith of Olympus and the God of Fire to highlight the importance of copper in craftsmanship. Like some sort of business deal. But, I guess, because they really loved their symbolisms and their gossip, they also had her hook up with Ares to add some fuel to the fire (pun intended :P) and make things exciting.**

 **Just a trigger warning: there are mentions of termination of pregnancy, although I do not go into graphic detail.**

 **Reviews welcome!**

* * *

 _1 December 2006_

 _Royal Palace, Athens_

I'm in trouble. I think.

I don't even know why I agreed to help Zeus Almighty in the first place. It might have been the usual course of action, for me to interfere when things between him and his own wife get rough, but Hera and I haven't sat down to have a "decent" conversation (without her acting like she'd want to murder me, that is) since I was about fourteen and everyone wanted to portray me as a cute and innocent young girl on the verge of womanhood.

Little did they know…

But that is not the point. The thing is that I have to be the one to rescue the marriage of two middle-aged people who, apparently, also have trouble talking things through and trying to come up with an arrangement fitting enough for everyone. This whole thing started when I was about sixteen and had helped Father make up with Hera, because she had threatened with divorce. For the first time after years of infidelity and illegitimate children. Long story short, another half-sibling of mine had been born back then and the mother was pulling off a Billy Jean but, luckily for us all, Zeus Almighty ain't no Michael Jackson. I know, it's unbecoming of me to use 'ain't'. It's what spending time with my friends - the real ones - does to me. But not among other royalty and, certainly, not among Hera. Unless I want to shock her. Which will make matters worse now, of all days.

To say I am nervous would be an understatement. Since last night, I have an odd feeling in my stomach, like some mild period cramps though I am sure that this is not the case. It's stress. I am about to be in the same room with the Queen, in private, for the first time since before she sent me to exile. The last time had been painful and humiliating enough. This time, hopefully, the circumstances are better. It's not as if I wanted to get involved in Father's marriage in the first place... She won't divorce him. She might use it to threaten her husband, but it's their usual row. He cheats, she leaves, he apologizes, she forgives, they get along, then all over again.

Someone, please, make a soap opera out of it! The boring kind, the ones that go on for decades and don't even have a storyline anymore.

I admit, I do watch one or two of them occasionally. It's the only thing that helps fall back asleep when I wake up in the middle of the night. Ridiculous dialogues...

Anyway. Hera agreed to see me after both mine and Zeus Almighty's secretaries insisted. Everything is arranged via our secretaries to the point where I highly doubt we are a normal family anymore. The closest thing I have to that is Mother's side. Those people really don't have trouble arranging the simplest tasks - although a huge debate always occurs because there are too huge a family - but the only thing their secretaries do is to keep them updated on the correspondence and latest news on their businesses and finances. In my royal side of the family, however, the Private Secretaries often act as the negotiators who ensure the world's harmonious balance. Honestly, give them the Nobel Peace Prize.

Now, a few boring information on architecture: the Royal Palace is not just huge drawing rooms, staircases, conference rooms, Reception Halls and offices. It's actually a three-story mansion built in 1909, and only the first two floors (ground and first floor) are used as "the" Palace. Most of the third floor used to be the Royal Family's private quarters, but it was turned into the Private Secretaries' offices for practicality. As for the people who remain here, new private quarters have been built. They include our bed chambers, three guests rooms, the Queen's private study, two bathrooms, a small kitchen, a dining room big enough for all of us, and two sitting rooms in case we want to play Happy Families. The small one actually has a sofa, two armchairs two coffee tables and a TV set (complete with a DVD player). The bigger one, which is adjacent to its tiny counterpart, is where we usually receive our friends. It has three sofas, three armchairs, a big mahogany coffee table in the middle, and no electronics. We hardly use it frankly, since the Grand Salon on the main Palace is bigger, more spacious, and it's where we get to bond with our guests of honour during state visits.

The private quarters are the only place in the entire Palace which every new Queen is allowed to redecorate, as long as she does not exceed the budget set out by the government. Queen Rhea had kept things simple: practical furniture, earthly colours, a place which really felt like home. And we have lots of pictures to prove it. The walls in the living room were painted a mocha cream, the curtains were a lively burgundy, matching carpets, and the furniture colours varied from chocolate brown to Newport blue. It wasn't the best decoration and pretty sure it was considered awful in the 1970s too, but Grandmother had refused to hire a decorator, stating she had other things to worry about. She gave the rest of the money to charity instead. Which Hera obviously prompted against after she took over. She simply loves her grandeur and so she decorated the private quarters as if we are still in the "official" rooms of the Royal Palace. She replaced the colourful Barclay sofas with cream white Victorian ones, painted the walls a golden beige, replaced the footstools with armchairs, had the coffee tables refurbished, and ordered new china plates and crystal vases. She even changed the beds but not the nightstands or the wardrobes because the Socialist government of the time thought her tastes were awfully costly. But, if her goal was to make those quarters damn stuffy, congratulations, she achieved it.

Now, it might sound like the description of a Presidential rather than a Royal Palace and here's why: my great-grandparents, King Uranus and Queen Gaia, as well as all other monarchs before them, lived in the Palace of Tatoi, using the Royal Palace exclusively for their official duties, which included state dinners and the inauguration of every new government. Apparently, that wasn't good enough for Grandfather, who thought that living twenty kilometres north of the centre of Athens was like living on the other end of the world and, following his ascent, he had moved into the Royal Palace for good. He had actually issued for the private quarters to be built above the extension of the main building which housed the Reception and the Credential Halls. The process lasted two years, from 1962 to 1964, three years before he was sent into exile by the newly-arisen Junta. He had also instructed that the "new" floor is built in the same nineteenth-century style as the rest of the Palace, outwardly and as far as the doors on the inside were concerned. He also did it because Grandma Rhea disliked Tatoi. She used to call it "ghastly" and was terrified of the sight of a statue in the garden, right in front of the house, resembling the Grim Reaper - or Charon, to give the Greek name - riding his horse. I think it's supposed to depict a Greek warrior ready to throw himself in the battlefield but no one knows for sure. I keep joking that he looks like my uncle, Prince Hades, but no one thinks it's funny. Least of all, Zeus Almighty and Grandmother Rhea.

Apparently, I'm the only person on this earth lucky enough to have been blessed with the sight of Uncle Hades in his black cape, at three in the morning, in the forest of Mon Repo, taking his three dogs (Greek shepherds, all of them) out for a walk and a game of catch. You know. Like normal people do… What was I doing out there? Good question. I wanted to paint and was hiding in the bushes, trying to catch the perfect shade of midnight blue and the colour of leaves under the moonlight. No, not a single eccentric in this family. None at all. Anyway, I was lying on the grass behind a rose bush, staring at the summer full moon, the enormous, perfectly round, orange-y beauty, when I saw a ball flying over my head, heard dogs barking, and saw the Man in Black making his way through the forest with this floor-length black cape of his. He showed his face right above mine, which - if you excuse the language - scared the living crap out of me. I screamed, he screamed, the guards heard us, cuffed poor uncle Hades and he started to shout so much and so loudly that the rest of the Royal Family gathered on the scene. Like any normal person who has been abruptly awoken, they were not in the best of moods. They must have thought there was another _coup d'etat_ and we'd have to be held as hostages in one of our Palaces again, like in 1967. It wasn't until my own shock wore off that I recognized him and shouted at him for frightening me so. Long story short, he hasn't spoken to me since. And it's been ten years.

To the defense of my drawing skills, I did get the right shade of midnight blue in the end. The painting is called "Full Moon on a Summer Night", it hangs proudly at my mother's dining room and a friend of hers who's a curator at the MET keeps asking me to display it there. Take that, Prince Charles!

Yes, sorry. I got carried away again. Back on topic.

So, here I am, right now, in the big sitting room in the private quarters, waiting for my end to come. Must have become a habit of Hera's to be pacing up and down the room, arms crossed in front of her, when we are in the same room. Neither of us is talking. Even I know that she is furious with her husband's cowardice, sending the peace corps instead of facing her himself.

We decided to hold the discussion exclusively in French, because some things are better told in a foreign language. Not that French felt like it for either of us. I grew up with a French nanny who had trouble speaking Greek and Hera spent a lot of time in France when she was young. We even have the accents down to a T.

Also, since we are on our own, and there is no need for pomp, the protocol is not followed. That's the only protocol kept among royalty: there is no royal protocol. Except for when there are other people and cameras around.

"It's not pleasant for me to be here, either," I let out after having spent the last five minutes observing her endless nervous pacing.

She keeps it up for a little while longer, until she finally says:

"If you do speak to your father, you might wish to let him know that I will talk things through with him myself. When the time comes. You have interfered in this marriage long enough."

 _Interfered_? Lady, I am not one of his mistresses, neither did I introduce him to any of them. Not since last time I checked anyway. Though it would have been a great revenge, for all the things she had done to me. But I am not that terrible. I have to give it to her though, Hera is stubborn as a mule. And still very much in love with her husband. If she wasn't, or if she loved him less, she would have left him years ago. It's not like she did not have the chance, now, is it?

"Is that why you agreed to see me?" she asks, sitting down on the armchair opposite me.

"No."

She doesn't show whether or not my negation surprised her. Neither does she make any remarks to prove so or otherwise. As she is pouring herself a cup of coffee, I summon up the courage to ask her what I have had in mind for a few days now. I don't really care that Zeus and Hera have not talked things through in two weeks and are only putting on a show in case the servants eavesdrop. But we do not need to fear such a thing in here. All of them are dismissed from the quarters for our meeting, except for the two security aides standing in front of the main entrance.

Twirling my cup on the saucer, I asked:

"What do you know of Hephaestus? I hear Father has taken quite the liking to him."

And that's how I get her off guard. About time that was. She keeps her eyes fixed on me. I further: "All I know about him is what you call him. The Quasimodo, isn't it?"

"You obviously know more than that," she replies. "Why don't you give me the whole story?"

There she did it again, gaining the upper hand! Can't I hide from this woman even once?

"I know that he is my intended." I try as much as possible to hide my suspicions that she is the driving force behind it all. Better not add fuel to the fire just yet.

"You seem to know all there is to know already." She stands up to leave, but stops when I say:

"Not quite."

And just like that, I throw the bomb. It is only one question, but an impossible one to ask. For the past four days I kept phrasing and rephrasing it in my head, and now I am about to say it out loud. The feeling on my stomach returns, slightly more intense this time, and I try not to let it show. But it's hard when you have an expressive face. I place the saucer with the cup on the coffee table in front of me. I had better just put it simply:

"Did you send me on that tour so that you and Father can arrange it in peace?"

She… laughs? Well, that is unexpected.

"Don't be ridiculous," she says. "The last thing I want is to see you married to this creep. It wouldn't look good for you as a future queen, to marry someone that can barely stand."

Although her words should have reassured me, they do not. On the contrary. They make matters worse. She proceeds to give me the lecture on how our family's reputation is already bad and Zeus' renewed unpopularity sets the Monarchy in hot water. Yet, the people expect me to carry on the legacy and I had better be careful. I ought to find the perfect consort. Preferably someone who is handsome enough to enchant everyone instead of making them frightened and disgusted at a mere sight of him. But, Zeus is the King and he has been the one who has brought forth political stability. Hephaestus does seem like the kind of spouse that would never complain. He is no stranger to hard work or public scrutiny. He could keep me out of trouble, which the people, and the rest of the Royal Family, should be grateful for.

And that's how you know she has been married to Zeus for twenty years.

She confuses me. So, she disapproves of the match, but approves of it at the same time? Hephaestus is bad for my reputation but good for the Crown? But I am the Crown! She, of all people, should know that its future lies on my hands. Scary as it sounds.

She goes on talking, but I do not pay any attention to her words. Until she says:

"Besides, it is not as if you don't know how to deal with unpleasant surprises."

I do not know what she means by that. I draw a deep breath, ready to speak, but then Hera mouths one simple word:

 _Avortement._

Abortion.

How did she….?

"Oh, I know all there is to know," she adds as if she's reading my mind.

This is scary. A joke. That's it, that's what it is. A very bad joke.

I want to leave, but I can't go anywhere. I don't want to give her the satisfaction that she has defeated me again.

This is confidential information. Only Mother and her doctor know about it. I had used an alias. I had made sure that no one, ever, found out about it. Especially the Royal Family. But Hera always knows a little too much:

"Committed in New York, which is a convenient enough distance to keep a secret. A few days before your father asked you to return to Greece, I presume. Isn't that why you had wanted to spend more time with your mother's family after the end of your tour?"

I try to laugh it off, fool her for being wrong, and trying not to prove her accusations:

"This is ridiculous, I'd never do such a thing!"

She raises an eyebrow. My heart is beating wildly. There's this awful pain in my stomach again and I clench my teeth. It is rare, but it always becomes obvious when it happens. And turns me a terrible liar as well:

"Nevertheless," Hera adds. "I doubt this is the kind of information you'd want the world to know."

I cannot disagree with that one. But why is Hera telling me such a thing - sound venomous no less - if there is nothing in it for her?

"Let's make an arrangement, shall we?" she says, crossing her legs one ankle behind the other. "I keep your secret if you agree not to protest the match any further."

"I thought you were supposed to help me get rid of him!" I snap.

"Oh, I am not supposed to help you do anything. We are to do what is best for the country. Zeus thinks that the match shall be beneficial, and we both ought to obey his wishes. If you are still not convinced, you might wish to renounce your rights to the throne. Oh, but I forgot. You have already had your investiture ceremony. Renouncing your rights now might result in a loss of title and you would not want that, would you?"

She was right, I'm afraid. Now it was too late to back down. My investiture ceremony eight years ago had made things final: I was the future queen. Changing my mind would turn the world against me. In the best case scenario, they'd simply rid me of my title and let me live the rest of my life as a private citizen. In the worst one, I'd be classified as a traitor and be exiled from the country. Still, how dare she! I have more political power than her, yet she acts like the superior! No matter the experience she has as Queen, she has remained that little opportunist she was when she had first married my father. I no longer care if she loves him or not. Clearly, she has always loved the title more. But I do not dare say it out loud. My stomach hurts too much for me to do so.

"I believe we have nothing left to say," she lets out.

That is my cue to leave. Which I am more than happy to do. I know that there is a line that has to be drawn somewhere. I have to protect my own dignity but she knows the one secret I have been trying my hardest to hide since I returned from the tour. But whom am I kidding? No matter how hard I try to fool Hera, she always finds a way.

Still, how did she find out about the abortion? Mother certainly did not tell her, they never speak to one another. The doctor would never reveal my identity, being bound by the confidentiality that came with his profession. As for maids, they were left behind, occupying my Royal Suite just in case trouble arises with the hotel administration.

Unless…

I have to rush back to the Royal Suite. I have to make sure that it is still in there. I always knew better than to trust my second maid…

* * *

Zeus was not worried about the outcome from Aphrodite and Hera's meeting. Only the fact that Hera had agreed to see her step-daughter was a good omen. She had changed her mind. She was ready to listen to his side of the story now. And he would tell her everything. No more secrets between them.

But for now, he had to take care of another, more urgent matter. It did not concern the Government. Worse still, it was about his own family. And that boy.

"You must have heard of the rumours and the whispers, Sir," his Private Assistant told him. "Some items, some precious artifacts, are missing from various rooms of the Palace."

For better or worse, Eris was there too. Throwing in her own two cents at the discussion:

"They are missing from the Reception Hall, the Library, and the Dining Room. Among others."

"Thank you, Your Highness," the PA added. "Now, most of the missing items are a courtesy of the National History Museum, the National Gallery and various other institutions who demand that they are found immediately. One of them, speaking on everyone's behalf, stated that they suspect the young trainee at the Palace, which was hired last year."

Zeus was alarmed, although he pretended not to look it:

"Which young trainee?"

"Ganymede, Father," Eris said. "No one else was hired last year."

"His internship is coming to an end, Sir. But the stealing has only recently been reported."

"The servants discussed it constantly, of course, in the kitchens and the corridors, when they thought no one was listening. You know Mother's views on gossip, Father, that is why we have found out about it so late."

"So, are you saying that the servants knew all along and kept quiet?" Zeus asked. He was angry at this young man, for he had finally shown his true colours: an opportunist, who was trying to profit by taking advantage of his position. Worse still, he had witnessed the King at a moment of weakness. His worst one. Still, Zeus could not accuse him of anything without solid proof.

"I am saying that they were trying to tell us, but could not, because we wouldn't listen," Eris replied. "One day, my own maid was caught and she told me everything. There is no doubt about it, Father. He is the thief."

The PA agreed. Zeus needed yet another of those cigars he had managed to hide from Hera in his office, and he would have taken one, wasn't Eris in front. He had a rule of thumb: never to smoke in front of his children. Although he was pretty certain that Eris was a smoker too. He could smell it on her.

Pushing that thought aside, he tried to come up with a plan on the spot:

"I say you find his home address and that of all of his close relatives. We will send a few aides who will question them, see how they react. But be careful, they ought not to be scared, or panicked. I wouldn't want them to call the journalists, it would cause havoc unnecessarily. Just question them and see if they are telling the truth. Remove all the money from his bank account, but do not fire him until we have found the artifacts. And ask all of the servants if they have seen anything suspicious going on too. Let's get it over and done with."

Eris was pleased. Her mother's plan was going as it should! Better that they had planned it, even!

She curtsied and left the room, but she could not tell her mother yet. She was in that audience with that half-sister of hers still… Whatever. She had other things to take care of. She would rush upstairs and ask her maid to hide her collection in a safer place. In case someone entered Eris' room, she wouldn't want her to end up being the accused one.

In the meantime, Zeus asked his PA about any updates on the NIS investigation on Aphrodite's friends, the so-called "usual suspects". He was handed a piece of paper containing about a dozen names, home addresses, phone numbers, even information on their bank accounts. They were precisely the kind of people Zeus had imagined. Over-privileged children who had nothing to do with the Monarchy, except mock it. Children of bankers, journalists and politicians. Some were self-proclaimed "hoodies" and members of the Communist Party Youth just because they were too bored at home and needed a way to rebel. Immature adults acting like teenagers. No, they had to be kept away from Aphrodite or, rather, Aphrodite had to be kept away from them.

"Meet with the Prime Minister," Zeus said. "Show him the list. He knows what to do."

Zeus didn't want his own involvement to be known. If some of them went to prison, so be it. It was best for Aphrodite to keep as far away from them as possible.

And a great excuse for him to hasten her wedding.

* * *

 _Hotel GB, Royal Suite_

I rush into my bedroom first thing. I need to know if it is still in its hiding place. A hidden compartment at the bottom drawer of the chest of drawers serving as my nightstand. Hiding underneath old clothes of mine which I never wear. Whatever it takes to keep that notebook hidden from prying eyes and suspicious minds. I haven't felt my heart beat so wildly in the longest time. My head is spinning. Just how much does Hera know? How did she manage to read it? Did she tell anyone else? Especially... him?

No, no that couldn't be. I hadn't mentioned his name anywhere.

Still. He is her own son. The man that would have been the father.

I toss the clothes all over the room and open the compartment.

There it is.

I take the heavy, black notebook in my hands and examine it closely. No torn pages, and the page mark is right where I left it. It's just how I had left it. But still...

She couldn't have gotten the information from elsewhere. This diary was my most private possession. It's where I put down my thoughts when I am upset, troubled, furious, or devastated. It is more private even than the other diary I keep, the one that will later be archived in the Royal Family's archives at the National Library. The one I am holding is mine, and mine alone. It was where I had written all about the operation. Down to the slightest detail. With a very trembling hand and with tears in my eyes.

The pain in my stomach is gone now, but it does not make matters any better. I am dizzy. Hera certainly knows more than she revealed.

Still, how much does she truly now? And how much is she willing to keep to herself?

Drawing a deep breath, I open it. I won't read what I had written, I never do. I just riffle through the pages, one by one, searching for a kind of sign, anything, that would prove that Hera had blemished it. A ravager like her, surely she must have left an imprint or two behind...

There are none. I keep scanning the words and the pages. I even break the promise I had made to myself never to read it - especially the passage about that horrible day. Yet here I am, reading it over and over again. It makes me want to cry. It all comes back to me. Very vividly. The night at the night club, the morning after, the first symptoms, Mother's suspicions, the pregnancy test, the decision to get rid of it and pretend it never happened... For once, I was grateful for Zeus' punishment, sending me to all those places and engagements. The busier I keep, the less I think about it.

Even though I know very well that I could not have kept it.

I don't know if I want to break things, shout, or cry. Zeus spying on me is one thing. Although I am not comfortable with the thought, I have grown used to it. He does not wish to hurt me, diminish me, or spread rumours about me. He does it to protect me and my reputation. But Hera… By degrading me, she can raise the status of her own daughters. If, somehow, she got that information only from my personal diary, then she knows half the story. Rather, the consequences of it.

Still.

I do not trust her to keep the secret. Perhaps she would have liked to know more. Somehow, sooner or later, she'd reach the bottom line.

As I also ought to.

I ring for my friendly maid and she enters the room almost immediately. She notices the diary in my hands and stops on her tracks. She understands:

"I need you to call my Press Secretary. Tell him I demand to look at all the articles written about me in the past two months. I want every single one, from the gossip magazines to the most quality newspapers. Both the Greek and the foreign ones."

I need to find out if any such rumours were written about me, if any journalists had suspected anything from the way I looked. I know that my tour in the U.S. had disappointed some people. In the pictures, I look tired, not so cheerful compared to the photos from Europe, and occasionally I seem rather lost or overcome with fatigue. Surely, some female journalists themselves must have suspected as much? No matter what, I have to make sure that Father and does not know anything. Worse, what if Ares happened to read one of those articles? How likely is that?

"Yes, Miss," my friendly maid says.

"And, from now on, you are the only person that is allowed to enter this room. It's an order."

"Certainly, Miss."

"Now, go. I don't want to be disturbed by anyone and for whatever reason."

I know I have some public appearances left to do today. My punishment is coming to an end and my schedule is more relaxed. Now I have the luxury of spending twenty minutes to myself. To relax. To think. Just me and my troubled past.

Is this the reason Hera endorses my marriage? Her lecture on doing her duty and listening to her husband's orders was not very convincing. Why would she accept someone she thinks will destroy the family's image, if she wants to gain nothing from it?

I feel nauseous. I can't keep it in. Rushing to the toilet, I let it all out.

After I am done, I remain sitting on the floor, knees bent. For the first time in six months, I remember how alone I really am. Not lonely. I am surrounded by people all the time, even if they do not know me. Least of all, trust me. Poker faces with creepy smiles. They are throwing me into the wolves and call it love. Pretty sure they see my marriage to Hephaestus as a punishment. Yes, another one. For all the sins I had committed when I was younger, and for the ones I am yet to commit. For all the trouble I will cause in the future. A reminder of the demands that came with my position and privilege. The two things I never asked for in the first place.

But I have to meet Hephaestus. It is only a few days away and I am determined to show him the ugly side of me. Perhaps, this way, I can make him disgusted or even frightened. I would show him what the life as the consort of a future monarch was like. Deformities aside, he must possess even the slightest of ego? He was a man, like anyone else, and everyone has it. They ought to. It is their last remnant of honour, what they hold most dear. What makes them the hunters and the demanders and causes them to feel intimidated by stronger or more powerful women.

He is yet another man. I can charm, lure, fool, and frighten him to my own liking. Anything to make him shoo me away and give me back my freedom. I do feel rather guilty at hurting someone like him, but there is no other way.

I have to break his heart. He will certainly find someone else to tend to those wounds. But I have to be the one to pull the knife in his chest.

It is a sacrifice I am willing to make.

I am royalty, after all.

* * *

 _The same evening..._

 _Royal Palace, Athens_

 _Private quarters_

Hera had made up her mind about talking to Zeus three days before her meeting with Aphrodite. Their game of hide-and-seek had gone on for long enough. About time they acted like the grown adults that they were and confronted each other. For the sake of their country first and their family second. They would deal with their own scars later. Each on their own. They would try and heal them. Even if their attempts had gone to waste.

She was in his room, waiting for him to come back from a visit at a naval base. He'd have to face her, like it or not. It was easier for her to bent him when he was tired. HIs exhaustion would take the best of him and, soon enough, he would be shouting and uttering the words he would never say otherwise. She didn't even care about an apology out of him anymore. She didn't need to hear those three words, not anymore. She preferred answers. To make sure that she was still the most important person in his life. His rock. The one he could not live without. Her ladies-in-waiting and her maids had constantly ensured her about it. Yet, she wanted to hear those words coming out from his mouth. To see the humiliation in his eyes and the pain in his voice. To take pleasure in his humiliation for a change. As he had done for years.

Finally, Zeus entered, accompanied by his valet. Hera was sitting on his bed, drinking a glass of red wine. It only took a look at his wife for Zeus to understand the meaning of all this. He dismissed his valet and locked the door behind him. No one else other than those two needed to know the things they would talk about.

He spoke first:

"I am tired."

Hera crossed her legs one knee on top of the other:

"I know."

"Is it an apology that you want? I can cry on your knees, if that will please you."

"Why?"

Her question confused Zeus. Hera explained:

"Why did you sleep with him?"

"We've been through this already."

"You've had three months to think things through, there is no escaping now. Tell me."

Zeus leaned on the wall. He took a good look at his wife. She looked sober enough to have this kind of conversation without causing a scene. Truth be told, her persistence not to listen to him had worn him out. He knew, too, that there was no escaping this kind of conversation. Neither did he want to. The sooner they put an end to that joke, the better:

"It was a time when I was under a lot of pressure. You were busier with keeping a full agenda and worrying about Hebe's education. One night, I got drunk. Very drunk. It was bad. I was thinking just how I had hurt you. All these years, with my infidelities and all. I had made up my mind to put an end to it. To stop having affairs."

"A promise well kept, indeed."

He did notice the sarcasm in her voice.

"I thought you wanted to listen to my story!" Zeus snapped.

"I'd prefer an honest one."

"This is the honest one!"

"So then what? He came to check on you and you were too drunk to think straight?"

"I woke up the next morning feeling the worst I had ever felt. I felt disgusted with myself. I had approached you, because I had hoped you'd-"

"Help you be a man again!"

"Exactly."

Hera kept looking at her husband, looking for the familiar glint in his eyes. The reassuring proof that he was telling the truth. There he was once again, sitting on the side of the bed, the way he had the night she had left for Corfu. Except that now she was the one with the drink in her hands and he was perfectly sober.

"How many times?"

"Hera…"

"Tell me!"

"Once."

"Just so?"

"Just so."

"Have there been others? While I was gone? Women, preferably."

Zeus had no idea what to say. He did not want to admit it to himself, but he had remained faithful to Hera afterwards. Although the urge was too great sometimes, he had promised to himself that he would try to resist it. He wouldn't want to make her delay her return indefinitely. He needed her, like the very air he breathed. Maybe even more. He was not himself when she was away. He could not focus properly or make good decisions. He had postponed numerous public appearances and important engagements, which did plenty of damage to the public's opinion about him. As a way to keep himself busy, he had thrust himself into the country's political matters. He had even broken his promise to the nation to keep out of politics, by taking a position on a controversial political issue, a German private colossus buying one of the country's biggest public companies. There had been major public outcry, both in the media and in the streets, and his approval ratings had reached an all-time low. The lowest of his entire reign. All the while, Aphrodite's popularity grew and many citizens and politicians alike were pressuring him to abdicate. He had come close to flying to Corfu then, to beg Hera to return to Athens. It was one of the decisions he regretted not taking. He had needed her by his side, to give him her advice and guidance. To help him get out of the void. Perhaps he had been too selfish to think that Hera had her own wounds to heal. Those had been deeper. They hurt more. Especially the old ones, which were reopened.

It's what she did now. His thoughts could ease her pain if he put them into words, but he could not bring himself to utter them. He simply told the truth:

"No. There were none."

"I see."

Something in the way she said it made Zeus suspicious:

"You'd better believe me."

"Give me one good reason why I should."

"Because you never do!" he snapped.

"I never do because you don't give me any solid evidence why I should! Every time, every single damn time you promise me you'll stop having affairs and then I find out about new adventures of yours! And it hurts! It hurts far more than you can imagine. I feel degraded, Zeus! Like some… some useless doll you dress up in pretty clothes and put in a fancy house because you know she won't complain! I never asked for this and you know it! You knew it when I had turned you down twice and yet you tricked me into this marriage and now I have had to put up with your humiliation time and time again, sometimes before my very eyes! Am I worth nothing to you? Do you think I don't have feelings or that they don't matter? Let me tell you, I do hurt. And I do feel ashamed. And humiliated. But apparently, none of those things matter at the sight of a young and pret-"

His big, heavy hands on her face, his body pushing her against the wall. His lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth, fighting with hers. It was an uneven battle. Like their marriage. It all happened so quickly. She couldn't breathe. She simply gave in, letting him kiss her with so much passion and hunger, like she hadn't been kissed in years.

He was devastated, too. Hurt by her words and ashamed of having put her in that position. But he could not change who he was. He was the hunter, the commander, the leader of the pack and he had to do as he wanted. Wander off to the unknown whenever he so pleased. But Hera was the woman of his life. His home. He would always come back to her arms because he knew that, no matter what, she'd be waiting for him. Neither of them had anywhere else to go. No one else to turn to. It was hard, being on the top of the world and have no one but each other to share it with.

When their kiss ended, both of them tried to catch their breath. They were not young anymore. Even though they sometimes acted like little children, pushing each other to the limit and making each other cry. As soon as Hera realized what they had done, she slapped him across the face. Zeus was startled and he was looking at her in awe. Hera was proud. It had been long overdue. Zeus understood. The hidden message in her gesture:

"I love you, too."

"Good," she replied. "Always remember that."

Opening the adjacent door, she entered her bedchamber. She had left it slightly open. It was an old, discreet sign. Zeus had not seen it in a long time, but he still knew what it meant.

Tonight, she would not protest him entering her room.

She would wait for him at midnight, when everyone else would be sleeping.

They would become lovers again.

She had forgiven him!

* * *

 _9 December 2006_

Hephaestus read the invitation again:

 _H.R.H Crown Princess Aphrodite requests a private audience with you on Sunday, 10 December 2006 at 4:00 A.M. in the Royal Palace in Tatoi. H.M. the King requests that you use His Majesty's helicopter for your travel to and from the estate._

He could not believe it. She had agreed to see him! They would finally meet, face-to-face. All these years he had spent, attending the same galas and balls as the Royal Family with his parents, he kept watching her from afar, as she made heads turn and was accompanied by a man way more handsome than he'd ever be. He did not even try to approach her. She would never notice him, with all his deformities and... handicaps.

The doctors kept telling him that, by the time he would turn forty, he would need a wheelchair, but he was determined to prove them all wrong. He would keep on walking, even if that meant the would have to use a walking stick for the rest of his life. As long as he could walk, he was happy.

But now, taking a look of himself in the mirror, he thought twice. Perhaps she would not like what she would see. No matter how many times Zeus had told him not to worry, his reflection indicated otherwise. It was obvious that his right shoe had a taller heel than the left one and he could not go on hiding the scars and marks on his hands forever. Somehow, she would look at them and she would certainly be disgusted at the sight. There was also another detail he should tell her about, which was vital for the future of the Monarchy. The one secret he had decided to keep from the King. Hephaestus was so excited to finally get to know the woman of his dreams, and he was so enthralled by the prospect of them getting married, that he had decided to keep his medical history a deep buried secret. If Zeus found out about it, he would put an end to it. All of it. What use would he be to him, and, most importantly, to Aphrodite, then?

He tried not to think about it. They still had to go through a lot of things until their wedding day. They had to make the media believe something about a budding romance, then them being a couple, followed by the engagement announcement and, finally, after two to three months, the much-awaited royal wedding. It would take about six months at least, if they could make the world believe it had all started during her big tour via the correspondence they exchanged. Perhaps they had met somewhere privately before her departure and it all started from there. "Friends turned lovers, everyone loves that kind of love stories", the King had said. But Hephaestus didn't care about the lies they'd have to tell to the nation and the world.

She would be his wife. They would be married. Together for life. Perhaps, over time, she would grow to love him. He was not exactly the kind of man women fell for. But he knew how to treat a lady the way she should be treated. He certainly knew how to tend to the finest, prettiest, and most elegant of those. Like she was a very rare wildflower. One that should be treated with special care, because a touch was enough to kill its beauty.

It's funny, she was his fiancée, one of the most famous women in the world, and yet he knew very little about her. Did she like wildflowers? He had forgotten to ask. What was her favourite colour, or song? But you were not supposed to ask the father of the bride such things. Zeus would never tell him. Should be bring her flowers at the audience? He didn't want to make it look like he was hurrying into it. She would welcome him on her capacity as a royal, not as a woman about to meet her betrothed. He may not be allowed to carry any gifts. Nevertheless, he'd have to make a good first impression. The beard. He had to trim it. Then his suit. He'd have to wear the finest one he owned. Perhaps even find a funny thing or two to say. She was known for her sense of humour and she had said in an interview once that she really liked people - men - who made her laugh. He would try to do so too.

His own parents were also pressuring him to make her like him. He had to marry, and what better offer than the future Queen? He'd be the most important man in the country and have all the privileges that came with it. But he didn't care about any of the titles that fascinated his parents, especially his mother. He only cared about being close to her. And now, he would spend some time in the same room with her.

Like a dream had finally come true.

* * *

 _10 December 2006_

 _Afternoon_

 _Palace of Tatoi,_ _ _Acharnes, North of Athens__

My endless rounds of engagements finally came to an end a few days ago. But I could not bring myself to celebrate. The past few days were an endless blur. I had to keep on following a relatively tight schedule, which involved a lot of public appearances, speeches, and photo sessions. All throughout the process, I had to seem happy and carefree and to be careful enough not to make people understand that something was troubling me. Or that there was something I was trying to hide.

I have not seen Hera since our meeting, and that is possibly the only good thing that happened lately. My Press Secretary did what I had asked of him and gave me all the articles about me. Or, at least, the ones he wants me to read. I knew all along that it would be a rather fruitless investigation, and it turned out to be just that. He even went as far as to give me material from the news agencies, which I knew the King and the Queen also got. Nothing stated or implied anything about the pregnancy, let alone the abortion. Just one mention in a British tabloid (I think it was the _Mail_ ) about me looking tired at a reception at Buckingham Palace but even they blamed my very tight schedule for it. If there was one good thing I achieved by visiting Britain, it was to make the _Mail_ less sexist for a change… Who could imagine…

Yet, the fact that there were no reports about it relieved me. Zeus does not know anything, there is no doubt about that. And I doubt Hera has told him. But even if she has, as long as she does not know who the father is, the secret is still safe.

After all, as long as the Royal Family knows something but the media does not, it never really happened. This has been our way to keep sane despite all those weird rumours over the years.

Suddenly, the old Grandfather's Clock by the fireplace chimes. It is four in the afternoon. The time has come for me to finally meet my intended. Father had been so happy about me meeting Hephaestus that he had arranged for him to arrive at Tatoi with the King's helicopter. I heard the sound of its rotor blades as it landed and have been waiting quietly, for the past ten minutes, for the door to open.

It finally does, and Lydia enters first to "introduce" him. Without further ado, she steps aside, allowing Hephaestus to enter. I am already standing, as is customary before an audience. Although I have seen him many times before, today he looks… different. I am not sure if it is in a good or a bad way. At least he is not as bad-looking as I remembered him. The beard he has grown since the last time I saw him does hide his facial birth defects and I can't help noticing, for the first time in my life, how decent he looks in a suit and that he is slightly taller than me. He is not a hunchback - yet - but he is still far from handsome. Or even relatively good-looking.

I cannot help noticing his gloved hands. I have heard that they had been awfully burned when he was little. The accident had caused a permanent deformity and he has to wear gloves constantly, in public at least.

He bows. Then, holding on to his walking stick, he waits for my instructions. I take a closer look at him. Such a pity, for a young man like him to have to move around like this...

 _Collect yourself!_

I remember my place and my plan. I have to look imperious. Intimidating, even. I will be doing us both a favour by freeing us from this joke of an arrangement.

I try to muster a kind smile and stretch my right arm forward. Hephaestus rushes to kiss the back of my palm:

"Your Highness!"

I do not quite know what to call him. I should address him by his last name, but I ought to show him he is beneath me. That he always will be.

"Sir! Do sit down!"

With a single hand motion, I point to a chair, right opposite the sofa I am sitting on. Between us, on the coffee table, there are two glasses of water - one for each. I had suggested early on that no coffee or any other snack would be served. They would have helped create a friendly atmosphere, which I did not want. I had also made sure that everything on me, from my outfit (a knee-length Chanel black dress with long sleeves, hair in a soft chignon and a white pearl necklace with matching earrings) to my posture underlined my future role as monarch. Hephaestus has surely grown accustomed to the royal protocol by now, and he knows that he should not speak unless spoken to first. Still, I have trouble initiating a conversation and instead waste precious time by taking a good look at him, from head to toes, again and again. I am trying to picture what we would look like, standing next to each other, in official pictures and during public appearances. We would make quite the sight.

People would certainly talk. They would question our reasons for becoming an item, let alone spouses. Over the years, journalists have wasted tons of ink and paper by writing about my love life. About the men that were photographed by my side, making speculations about who would be "the one", some even criticizing me for my choices… Who knew what stories they would come up with, both in Greece and abroad, to explain this odd union? What if they found out about his ancestors' incestuous relationship? No, this arrangement is too much. For both of us.

Father clearly has no idea what he is doing. Unless our marriage certificate comes with a business deal. Surely, some journalists would also suspect as much.

Hephaestus tags on his collar, as if it is choking him. I can tell he also got rather sweaty. My, I have never seen anyone be that nervous…

I decide to say something. It is what my guest is also waiting for, after all:

"His Majesty told me you wished to get married."

He grins like a small child who is being praised:

"Yes!"

His face lights up as he says it, even for a moment, and he looks awfully proud of himself. Which, in return, makes me feel terrible about myself and what I am about to do. But there is not enough time for apologies or regrets. I have a role to keep on playing:

"Now, may I ask, why _me_?"

He is taken aback. After a few seconds of silence, I add:

"You are aware of my position, of the responsibilities my future role ensues. Surely, a husband in a better…" I look for the right word: " Disposition… would have been a much more preferable choice. We spend a lot of time travelling, you see. Would be disastrous if you are unable to… put it simply, catch up."

He brings his hands between his knees. He has grown uncomfortable, perhaps. It will take some time for me to learn his body language, in case there was definitely no escaping him.

"It's a very interesting question, indeed, Your Highness." He soon rushes to correct himself: "I mean, Miss. Miss."

He is still learning the protocol, I see. Correcting him would be useless. It would make him more nervous and intimidated than I wish for him to be:

"I presume, you are aware of my parents' history?"

He looks bewildered:

"Yes, Their Majesties, the King and the Queen-"

"The King and the 'Queen That Never Was'?"

That is the moniker Mother is known by. It was given to her by a conservative journalist who had been one of Mother's staunchest supporters following Father and Hera's. He had wished to show how far superior Mother would always be to Hera. If their personalities were anything to go by, I would agree.

Hephaestus still looks perplexed. I explain:

"You see, Mother was in a very similar position as you. Not physically, but mentally. A woman born in wealth, mingling with royal circles but her being no royalty herself…" I draw a deep breath to give emphasis on my next sentence: "She was young, beautiful, had everything she ever wanted given to her on a silver platter."

"Didn't, uh, make a good combination with the King, did it?"

I do not laugh at Hephaestus' joke, although I agree. He is trying to break the ice between us but I am not willing to help him achieve that feat:

"What I am trying to say is that the role of the consort to the monarch is not just the person walking a few steps behind, or the one that is responsible for childbearing."

He tugs on his collar again.

"Let us not hide from the truth," I further. "The Royal Family, the people, the nation… They will need an heir. And the responsibility falls upon me, to provide them with a strong and healthy baby. Whatever the gender might be."

If this has been a nod to his ancestors' incestuous relationship and to the bad gene which he might have inherited, I can't be sure. I am certain, however, that he, too, has been aware of the importance of reproduction in our world. It is more like our duty to our country than a choice or an act of pleasure. He is concerned about his ability for it, since he is certainly not an asexual. He has agreed to marry me, after all. Unless, his parents, too, are pressuring him. But I do not see it in his eyes. I am his choice! Which makes it all even worse...

"Y-yes, I understand perfectly," he replies eventually.

"And considering my… reputation… The world will be most disappointed to find out I did not end up with someone of… higher standards."

 _Like Ares…_

 _Tais-toi!_

"I promise you, Miss, I will do anything at all to fulfill my-"

We are running out of time and I have to end this audience soon, before Lydia comes knocking on my door to inform me that I need to go back to Athens for yet another engagement. I am back on my normal schedule now, and even though I actually have some free time now, there are still lots to be done:

"His Majesty has high hopes for the match, whatsoever, and I understand he has already blessed the union, which makes us both, officially, betrothed. The rings and the press statement will only seal the deal. I hope you understand that you have already reached the point of no return."

"I- I'm per- perfectly aware of it, M-Miss, yes," he stammers.

"Good. Then I expect you to behave accordingly."

I pretend not to have noticed the stunned look in his eyes. But, as if I was reading his mind, I add:

"We will figure out how we will make our union last over time."

With that, I stand up and allow Hephaestus plenty of time to follow my lead. For that, he has to hold on to both his stick, which he had placed behind his chair, and on the coffee table. I do want to help him, but it would have been both improper - since he is not yet family - and it would quash my attempts to show I am not the least bit interested in him. That our marriage would be an arrangement, a white lie. Nothing more.

As soon as he stands up, I say:

"That is all for now, Sir. It was certainly a pleasure meeting you! Have a nice day.."

Stretching out my right arm again, I wait for him to kiss the back of my hand. I push it back abruptly as soon as his lips touch it and move on to ring the bell on another, taller round table nearby, for a staffer to open the door.

Without further ado, Hephaestus bows and leaves, like the servant does. As soon as the door behind me closes, I exit the room through another door. Making my way to my bedchamber to change, I try to evaluate the meeting. I do not know how I came across. Perhaps I achieved my goal. He did look nervous, rather. But on the other hand, the look in his eyes is familiar. It is the same glance that I have seen in the faces of men falling in love.

 _No, no, no, no, no._

Not that! Anything but that!

Stupid me, that was the one aspect I did not consider.

Of course he has fallen for me! I am definitely his choice! Zeus simply agreed to the match for financial security. To make up for the damage caused by his investments. It's what my friendly maid told me, based on all the gossip at the Palace.

My life would have been better, so much better if Hephaestus had been disgusted by me. Which is what I should try to achieve constantly from now on, I guess.

But how? I am young, beautiful, wealthy, and two signatures away from becoming the most important person in the country.

Of course I make the perfect bride!

It only confirms, more forcefully than all the previous times, what I have known all along: that I have no say in my life.

None at all.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: The Ares/Aphrodite chapter you've all been waiting for :P** ** **It took an awful lot of research and re-writing, and I would like to apologize in advance for any OOC stuff (but what can I say, I love drama).** The second half of it is rated M because reasons.  
**

 **Also: I usually try to avoid incorporating Greek cultural elements like music and dance because they take an awful lot of explaining for the non-Greeks to understand. But since they are Greeks in Greece, those are inevitable, so here's my TED talk:**

 **Ares' dance is called** ** _ζεϊμπέκικο_** ** _(z_** ** _ ** _eibékiko_** )_ and it's a popular music genre both in Greece and in Cyprus. Mostly danced by men, it has a rhythmic pattern of 9/4 or else 9/8. Usually, a man dances it by himself, encircled by a group of people who kneel and clap according to the rhythm. It doesn't have any particular steps but the "standard" is for the dancer to do improvised and circular movements around themselves, while maintain certain figures. By dancing this, men can express jealousy, anger, frustration, lovesickness, grief etc. and the modern songs talk mostly about break-up and turbulent relationships. The dance comes from Asia Minor (where lots of Greeks lived, until the tensions between Greece and Turkey forced them to flee in the 1920s and the 1950s/60s respectively). It was named after the ******_ζεϊμπέκιδες_** _(z_** ** _ ** _eibékides_** )_, i.e. men from Thrace who had immigrated from Greece to west Asia Minor. As a famous cliché in Greece goes, a man dances it to win over a woman or to make her jealous (even when she's not there.) For those interested, you can see this ******cliché in all its glory - and how the dance is danced - to the YouTube link in my profile** (the first verse and the chorus are translated in the chapter).  
**

 **On a serious note, there have been major wildfires going on in Greece near Athens. RIP to the more than 70 people who have lost their lives and a speedy and full recovery to the 150 hospitalized.** **Just throwing it in because, (fan)fiction aside, we shouldn't forget about the real world.**

* * *

 _15 December 2006_

 _Morning_

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

With so many things going on, the gala and Hephaestus among others, I forgot about the one thing I am actually looking forward to.

It is actually not the first time this has happened. Lydia has always been kind enough to remind me of everything I am always excited but forgetful about when she briefs me on my day's schedule first thing in the morning. And because, as she says, I have the world's most unprofessional morning routine (whatever that means), those briefings take place - quite literally - all over the place. When I take a bath, when I get dressed, even during the holy hour when I enjoy my mint martini pick-me-up. The latter has become her favourite time to repeat all of my engagements in great detail for the hundredth time, actually. She gets to have some of those French cheeses for herself, sneaky little thing.

But that's what I get for hiring her, I guess. She's in her late forties, studied in Germany, and worked for the President of the Parliament and the Prime Minister before realizing she needed something more challenging and what better cure for boredom than me and my messy life? Lydia actually has a very youthful soul, much as she doesn't let it show. To the point where I sometimes feel that our relationship resembles that of sisters more than the one of employer and employee. She's the only person on this earth (after Mother) whom I allow to scold me as much as her heart desires. In return, she doesn't reveal any of the things she's witnessed during those ten years she's been working for me. But she hasn't asked to resign yet, so I must be doing something right.

Anyway, the event I forgot about was the one for Make-A-Wish. The idea is to host a tea party at the Reception Hall in the Royal Palace for the terminally ill children, who want to get a glimpse of what it is like to be a real-life Princess.

I have been in talks with the foundation about it for almost a year, so I guess it is about time it took place. Besides, everyone out there thinks that I divide my time between the Royal Palace, the Palace of Tatoi, and my own mansion in Cyprus. But secrets aside, I have put way too much time and energy into that foundation to be considered an honorary patron anymore. I just want my charity work to be remembered, and not be 'yet another royal' who gives speeches, cuts ribbons, hands cheques, and looks pretty at fund-raising events. There's plenty of children out there who need the help of grown-ups like us to make their lives as wonderful as possible. I plan on founding my own charity at some point, when Zeus Almighty stops fearing I will be accused of influencing political opinion... Blame the bad reputation that royal charity work has in Greece. My ancestors' greatest achievement, frankly... They made one great chaos of the one activity you can't mess up with. They used it for their own political gain, and Zeus Almighty changed that, or at least pretends to. He actually uses it to give his approval ratings a boost, a trick Hera has taught him. So, if you ever see me becoming Prime Minister, you'll know who to blame.

Nevertheless, I am trying to help as much as I can. But having Their Majesties' support wouldn't hurt. Much.

"They believe it is too early to host it on the twenty-fifth of January," Lydia said. "Her Majesty suggested that it is postponed until February instead. To give the public some time to... recover from the celebrations for her birthday. And for the staff to organize it."

"But, we have already arranged everything, even the magician and the cakes!" I protest. "All that is left is to send out the invites."

With all due respect, Hera has overestimated the gala. It won't mesmerize the Greeks to the point that they won't stop talking about it. Rather, they will criticize her for overindulging in her appanage and status. Her approval ratings are low enough already. The Big Boss' too, which is why I doubt they'd wish to remain in power for another twenty years, as they had always planned. Not when the entire nation keeps pressuring me to ascend the throne because they've grown sick and tired of Thunder and Peacock (Zeus and Hera's actual security code names and bless whoever came up with them).

After all, last time I checked, I was working hard enough for all three of us...

"Nevertheless, Miss, these are orders from the Palace."

I expected that kind of reaction, to be honest. I am more worried about the little children that'll be disappointed when they are told about the postponement. I have received lots of thank-you letters from their parents, asking me to host it the soonest possible. Every thing has been planned in great detail, too. I have even decided which gown and tiara I'll wear at the occasion. I'm going to dress the part completely, my sash and honours included. I wouldn't want it to be yet another Disney-themed princess party, although the little girls will be free to dress up as one. Perhaps, once I am Queen, I can manage to host that tea party every year. No matter what the Parliament, a natural phenomenon and a colourful bird say.

"Fine!" I let out, handing Lydia the dark blue leather file including my schedule. "Call the foundation and tell them that we are hosting it on the second of February. Inform the Palace, too, and let them know that I won't negotiate it any further. And if His Majesty protests, tell him the word 'restaurant'. He'll understand."

Lydia looks surprised: "You're asking me to defy the King?"

"Oh, don't worry, he can't fire you. He knows who you're working for and he'll blame it on me. As usual."

She gets up to leave, but before that, she turns to me again: "Oh, one more thing. The foundation have suggested that you bring Princess Hebe with you, if you can. Would make the other children feel more comfortable, and it would be great for publicity."

"If her mother stops throwing daggers at me, I will."

Smiling, Lydia exits the room and there I am again, on my own, in the study, with this huge platter of French cheeses and my half-drunk martini nearby. Told you Lydia is disciplining me every chance she gets. Or tries to.

By the way, Hebe and I get along just fine. As much as Hera lets us, that is. If you look at the official family portraits, she's the little girl sitting on my lap. Used to, rather, until a couple of years ago. I actually like her zest for life and her funny antics. Journalists have noticed, too, and they beg to get a picture of us two randomly dancing or just talking. Hera hasn't reached that level of maternal affection yet. Still, it's funny, she and Zeus Almighty messed up with every single one of us, yet are doing a great job with their youngest child. Good to see that, after three children and twenty years of marriage, they finally learned the basics of decent parenthood. But, better late than never, right?

And a little something about the security code names: they change them every five to ten years for additional security and so far, the names I have had were 'Sunshine', 'Society', and 'Sheba', which only survived for three months because some kept confusing it with 'Samba'. I'm disappointed they didn't keep the second version, actually, it seemed to be the one hitting the nail on the head about me the most. Anyway, my current code name is 'Sea foam'. Which makes sense, frankly, considering how I was born (a story for another time), and that the Greeks often use that word to describe beautiful women. Pretty sure that whoever came up with it wanted to hit on me without getting into trouble, then. Not that I mind it. To tell you the truth, it is my favourite one on the list. But I don't know why they stick with words starting with _S_. Perhaps once I am Queen, they plan on calling me 'Serpent' or something.

Which is how you know men have a sense of humour.

* * *

 _Private quarters, Royal Palace, Athens_

Ares had already regretted his decision to return to the Palace. It didn't matter how long he had been gone for. He had grown unused to having a valet tend to his every need, from waking him up to laying out his clothes for him and preparing what he needed to shave. All of that waste of time bore the same sign: _Her Majesty's orders_.

Of course. Hera was his mother, the only real one he had, and she had given him a far better life than he'd even dare dream of otherwise. But she had crossed the line. Only the previous night, during their first dinner together 'as a family', she had kept on reminding him about how dangerous Alexandroupoli was and 'wouldn't you prefer to be based closer to Athens?' To everyone's surprise, Zeus had been his staunchest supporter in the dispute. He had forced Hera to shut up by telling her that Ares was 'doing his job protecting his country' and that they 'should all be proud of him'.

She would lecture Ares again today. On the breakfast table. Such a lovely picture they would all make. Zeus reading his newspaper, Hebe playing with her food, Eris and Eileithyia gossiping, Hera speaking to everyone and no one, and him just being bored as hell.

It was all so very different from the dining facility at the Base. There, he'd dine in a big room stinking of expired food and stale air. Men in green would sit on plastic chairs by steel tables, making jokes that would shock even his father, talking about their girlfriends back home, and reminiscing about breakfast 'back home'. Ares hardly understood the fuss about the latter. No matter where he was, he was always eating the same things in the morning: a piece of bread with butter and honey, jam or ham and cheese if they had plenty of it to waste, cereal with milk, hard boiled eggs, tea, coffee, or juice.

In either case, the food was prepared for the masses. For the soldiers in the Base and for the servants and the Royal Family in the Palace. At some point, Zeus had refused to pay extra so that the Royal Family and the household staffers would eat different things. So, he had instructed that everyone had the same things for breakfast. Except that the food in the Palace was much fresher and cooked by a chef that actually knew how to boil an egg. Wasn't it for his own family making his meals insufferable, he might have enjoyed breakfast that morning.

But how could anyone do so with a stupid tie around their necks, just because the Queen had instructed that all family members be fully dressed at all times? After the third attempt to tie it, Ares had given up and had to give in to his valet's help. Having a man as old as the King dressing him, as if he were still a baby...

 _Next time,_ _I am skipping the tie and that's it,_ he thought while he was making his way from the private quarters to the Dining Hall. Good for him, both were on the second floor.

Everyone in there was dressed like they were living in the office. Which, practically, they were. Unsurprisingly, Zeus was reading his newspaper, Hera was sitting right across her husband, Eris and Eileithyia were giggling and occasionally, one of them was paying attention to Hebe, dressed in her school uniform. As befitting to a daughter of the reigning couple, she attended private school. But seeing that she would never become a senior member of the Royal Family, she had to take the school bus, instead of having a chauffeur take her there. Living in the Royal Palace was already prestigious enough for an eight-year-old.

Once Hera noticed Ares, she closed the dark blue folder in front of her. Knowing the drill, Ares rushed to the buffet and began to serve himself. Even that didn't differ from life at the Base! Not soon after, Eris was heard:

"You know, Ares, you still haven't told me all about life in the Army."

"Eris, please!" Hera intervened. "This is neither the time, nor the place."

The younger woman got the message. 'Ares has just woken up', her mother meant, 'you shouldn't bother him with your endless blabbering'. Now that the 'darling son' was back home, Eris would have to retreat to being 'yet another daughter'. Like little Hebe. Except that the little girl could find some situations amusing.

Her brother's head for instance.

She was sitting between her two older sisters and right across Ares, so she could take a very good look at his very short hair. It was the way all soldiers cut it. For practicality.

She brought her hands to her mouth and giggled, drawing Ares' attention:

"What is it?" he asked.

"One of the boys in school said you look like Superman but your hair is much shorter!"

True to form, Hera gave her a scolding look. But then she noticed the truth of Hebe's words. And something else.

"Darling, you haven't shaved?"

"I'm not at the Base any more," Ares replied. "I don't see why I should."

Hebe intervened: "Don't kiss me goodbye, then! Your cheeks are scratching my face."

Ares could not resist teasing her: "May I still hug you though, M'lady? Surely you wouldn't want to resist such an honorable and fair knight like your brother such a great honour?"

Hebe giggled again and stopped only when Eileithyia reminded her she needed to hurry, the school bus would be arriving any minute now. It always parked in front of one of the gates to the Gardens. The Queen didn't like the mere thought of having a school bus parked right outside the front gates of the Palace.

Ares took a careful look at his sisters. It's funny how different they looked, even though all three had inherited Hera's beauty. Eileithyia looked the plainest of them all, with her big nose and lips. She hated them, but could not bring herself to "correct" them. Hebe was still too young for him to imagine what she'd look like in twenty years. Perhaps she'd end up resembling Eris more, they already looked scarily alike in pictures.

But the nice family moment was interrupted when Zeus spoke:

"Everyone, make sure you are back here by twelve thirty. Aphrodite is joining us for lunch at one o'clock."

 _Damn it!_

Ares had hoped that the mere mention of her name wouldn't send bolts down his spine. Not with the force that it had anyway. He had not been told about her coming over. Perhaps it was another last-minute decision. They kept having those a lot lately, from what his sisters had told him on the phone or written in their letters. He tried to come up with possible plans to talk to Aphrodite in private and, if he was lucky enough, tell her all about the thoughts of hers that had plagued him for so long. Not a love confession. He had always mocked those. Just letting her know how he had been coping. He'd ask about her too, of course, and her time in New York.

No, that wouldn't do. Why on earth would he go for the stars when he could have the whole sky? He'd lure her into following him to an empty corridor or room - one of the many in that place - and brush his lips against hers, play with her as she had done three months ago. He only wanted to taste their bittersweet taste again.

 _Like cinnamon..._

Just for a couple of seconds. Then they could go back to playing "siblings".

Ares clenched his fist. He shouldn't stay there. Not with his parents talking and his sisters teasing each other. They might be able to read his thoughts. Maybe even stop him from making his dream, his vision, come true before he had even dared realized it.

Yet he couldn't leave. Zeus had to be the first to stand up. As the protocol dictated.

Lucky for Ares, the King did so soon after.

"We have another busy day ahead of us," Zeus said. "Better not waste it on tittle-tattle."

That was the order the nearby footmen needed to start cleaning up the table. In a few hours, they would start setting it again for lunch. Each single member of the Royal Family went their way. Zeus in his office, Hera to the Reception Hall to oversee the preparations again, Eris and Eileithyia on engagements, and Hebe to find her Nanny. She would escort her to the school bus. As for Ares, he headed straight to the private quarters. There was a lumberjack buried somewhere in his room, which he always used to think or to calm down. Or both, which was case today.

Given that he had arrived only the day before, there were no engagements for him to do for the next two days. Surprising, since the holidays were approaching. Those were the Royal Family's busiest time of the year. Everyone was busy attending engagement after engagement and gala after gala.

Today would not be any different.

 _Perfect!_

He'd lock the door too, just in case. He could never too safe or too alone in there.

* * *

 _Midday_

I'm nervous. That's all.

I mean, I don't really have any reason to be, do I? I am just going to the Palace, in the same outfit I have worn at all of my morning engagements, to have lunch with Zeus Almighty and Peacock, drink, forget the basic rules of profanity (or at least pretend to), and then go back to the hotel.

It is not as if they have a special guest or something.

Oh dear, I can't believe this. Look at me, acting like I'm fourteen years old again... I still remember my crush from back then and how awfully eager I had been to dance with him. He did look like the perfect partner. Had two left feet instead. A great lesson in trusting men, frankly.

 _Focus! Focus, focus focus!_

Ares won't be able to do anything with all those people watching, will he? Actually, he won't be able to come any near me at all. Hera doesn't leave him out of her sight. She treats her precious little boy as if he's the world's most precious treasure.

Matter of fact, he did feel like that. In my arms...

 _Stop that!_

I'll just keep my fingers crossed I won't snap or accuse anyone for suspecting me for things I was too drunk to even know I was doing.

Not _that_ tipsy, really. But still.

Something in me tells me that Thunder will announce to the whole family that I am now an engaged woman. He has been acting like it since I told him that I would meet with Hephaestus on the eighteenth of January. To give me plenty of time to prepare. But this morning I realized that I actually need even more time just to figure out how I can be my worst self again. And to find the perfect 'Evil Queen' outfit, since the Chanel black dress and the pearls didn't do the trick...

I know how my half-brother will react. I have to keep on calling him that, in case I manage to control myself in his presence. He will get angry and try to find out as much as possible. But, since he, too, is scared of Zeus, it will be rather hard for him to cause a scene. I hope.

"We are here, Miss," Euphrosyne said. She's one of the three ladies of mine. It was her turn to hold the bouquets during my engagements today. Talking of, I have no idea where these flowers are right now...

I hold her hand. I don't know why. I need the support, I guess. All I can get.

"It will be alright, Miss," she says, misunderstanding the notion. She thinks I'm panicked about seeing my entire family again. Yes, I actually had a panic attack about it. Once. Long before I could even imagine myself tangled in this mess.

"I know," I reply.

But, as someone else would say, only I know how this is so not true.

* * *

 _Dining Hall, Royal Palace, Athens_

Family lunchtimes were never a joyful occasion. For anyone. That could as well be an unwritten rule and no one knew who to blame for its establishment. Zeus never spoke much during meals, unless it was an official occasion. Hera, on the other hand, had always enjoyed a good conversation. But even she followed Zeus' lead sometimes. When that was the case, she demanded that everyone else did the same. Today was one of those times. The footmen assigned to serve them had no other choice but to stand in the corner and watch the Royal Family eat, breathe heavily, and embrace the silence.

Having no better entertainment, everyone in the room focused on the sound of cutlery scraping the expensive china dishes. If they paid a little more attention, they would even hear the people around the table chewing and gulping.

Hera could sense that something was wrong. Ares was sitting next to her. Right opposite him, next to Zeus, sat Aphrodite. The two avoided looking at each other. Ares would hide both hands under the table ever so often, sometimes even pushing his fork against his arm. As for Aphrodite, she tried to fool everyone that she was eating. To no avail. She kept pushing her food around her plate, a trick everyone was all too familiar with. They used it to simulate consumption and deceive their hosts or guests during state banquets, to avoid any misunderstandings and, consequently, diplomatic issues from arising.

Unwilling to break the rules, yet desperate to put and end to this tension, Hera cleared her throat and touched the back of her neck. A good old trick she had used several times at official events, either to wake Zeus up or to ask him to change the topic of the conversation.

Luckily for her, Zeus got the message quickly. As did everyone else, who kept looking at him, waiting for his next move. He needed a few seconds to think of what he would say. He didn't really have any news to share, other than how happy he was to have all of his (legitimate) children there with him. Except for Athena, but she was nowhere to be found these days. He couldn't say that, of course. It was too predictable.

 _Oh, that's it,_ he thought. They would find out sooner or later, anyway.

"Well, children!" he said, standing up and raising his glass, filled with red wine.

To his surprise, they were all pushing back their chairs. Hera's eyes fell on Aphrodite. Her step-daughter looked relieved that the meal was over. Happy even.

"No, no, sit down," he added. "I haven't finished my meal yet. I just wanted to tell you that I have some rather thrilling news to share."

Hera knew what he'd announce and she contemplated stopping him before it was too late. Such an announcement could not be made under those circumstances. Besides, she had not given her own clear consent to that marriage yet.

But then again, her husband always seemed to confuse 'I'll think about it' with 'Yes'. She had fallen into that trap as well, years ago.

"As you know, I am very happy to have you all back with me," Zeus said. "Even for just a few days."

 _Oh, for heaven's sake...,_ Ares thought. It was already hard enough for him to be sitting right across Aphrodite, to watch her every move, yet endure her deliberately not looking at him. She was staring at her plate instead, not even trying to pay attention to her surroundings. Her glass remained untouched, which was very unlike her as well. Still, she looked prettier than he remembered. Fresher. Her hair was longer, she had put on some weight, and her blue dress brought out her eyes. Whatever little he could see of them at least.

Perhaps his parents had noticed how he had been trying to sneak his fork underneath the table and push it against his lap or his elbow from time to time. But he didn't really care about what they thought. Especially his own mother.

Yet, Aphrodite did look at him. When he was busier fighting with his own desires. She'd dig her perfectly manicured nails into her skin, blaming herself for acting like an amateur and feeling like an idiot. She could listen to her heart beating wildly, too. and she kept hoping that Zeus wouldn't notice.

Eris and Eileithyia were actually the only people who were paying attention to Zeus' speech. He kept talking about the importance of family and duty, even counting the reasons those two were so closely tied together in their case. It was a rather boring speech, which they had heard over and over again. Yet, Hera kept looking at her husband, so they had better follow their mother's lead as well.

Until Zeus finally made the revelation: "Therefore, I am very proud to announce that Aphrodite, here, has decided to do her own greatest duty towards both her country and her family. She's getting married."

The sound of cutlery as it abruptly hit the china dishes. Mouths wide open, looks of disbelief, and Aphrodite suddenly being the centre of attention. Unpleasant and unwelcome as that was. But Zeus had not finished yet. Not before he had said everything he had to say first:

"As you may have been told, Ares won't be escorting Aphrodite to the gala for your mother's birthday this year. The reason for that is that Aphrodite will attend the gala... escorted by her betrothed!"

Aphrodite felt like she would explode. Ares too. They felt they eyes of their sisters and the footmen on them, either mocking them or pitying them. They couldn't believe that Aphrodite - the walking scandal of a Princess - would get married. That she would find a husband eventually. The footmen thought about all that gossip in the kitchens. No way would they keep such big news a secret. For the next few days, weeks, even months, that'd be their most discussed topic. Until the night of the gala, they'd all speculate on what the Crown Princess's fiancé looked like. They had always thought that she'd end up with someone tall, who would resemble a well-built Hollywood actor or even a supermodel. Definitely someone awfully handsome. Like Prince Ares, perhaps even less. Or more. The man that had made the Crown Princess settle down after all those "adventures" of hers must have definitely swept her off her feet. After all, they had all heard her say how, if she would ever get married, it'd be after she had found 'the one'. That man must be someone with her half-brother's body type. She always went for guys like him. For some odd reason.

The two Princesses thought so as well. Over the years, they had followed Aphrodite's personal life - either via the media or first-hand - and they had reached the conclusion long ago that she was just like their father. Using men to her own pleasure, not caring about their feelings or being even remotely interested in having a serious relationship. The closest she had ever come to that had been the year before. But the relationship had ended abruptly and no one found out why. If they dared ask, they'd be met either with Aphrodite's feisty glare or Zeus' temper. His eldest daughter's personal life was not one of his favourite topics...

Ares kept looking at Aphrodite, how she had hid both arms under the table and was taking deep breaths, eyes and lips closed. She didn't want the people in the room to know that she was mad at her father for making the announcement in such a way. He had made her believe that he'd wait until after the gala. To give her some time to get to know Hephaestus, at least.

He felt betrayed. All those weeks, all those memories, and there she was, marrying someone else! That's why she wouldn't look at him. Why she had not reached out for him in any way since that night. She hadn't even written to him, not even once... Now he knew why. She had become his... but already belonged to someone else. Suddenly, the room didn't feel big enough to fit both of them.

 _If she doesn't, I'll leave first,_ Ares thought. No need.

Getting up from her chair so forcefully that it dropped to the floor, Aphrodite stormed out of the Dining Hall. Acting on reflex, Ares, too, stood up and made his way to the door. Zeus stopped him:

"Leave her!" he said, sitting back on his chair.

Ares obeyed. He didn't know why. He was used to following stupid orders, that's what.

Zeus took a good look at the people left around the table. They had all stopped eating, trying to take it all in.

"We are not done yet," he instructed. They all got the message. Soon enough, everything went back to normal. Almost. Something was missing. A little detail that was there during breakfast, but had disappeared the minute Aphrodite stepped foot in the Palace.

Oh, that's it. The liveliness. That of Ares, first and foremost.

Zeus didn't like how awfully protective his son was of Aphrodite. He had seen how they treated each other. They were scarily attached to each other, more than siblings were supposed to be. It had taken Zeus years, but he had finally found a way to cut that cord between them. This time next year, Aphrodite would have a new protector. Her husband.

"She has woken up at last. It hurts sometimes," Zeus added, even though no one was listening.

To clear the air, Hera changed the subject: "May we have the dessert now, please?"

Much as her husband's haste angered her, it did not bother her as much as the awful feeling she had, that something was about to go horribly, horribly wrong.

If only she knew what.

* * *

Air, I need some air. Even if that means I have to go to the Gardens to get it. I usually avoid that place. Be it the statues, the trees, or the feeling that I am getting exposed into the world without the protection that the Palace walls have to offer.

Funny, you may think, how I have spent my entire life being watched - either by adoring crowds or by the spies in my very own home - yet I fear being in the only place where I can be perfectly invisible. Even the inhabitants of the surrounding blocks of flats can't see me through those tall thick walls.

I knew that the air in the Palace would be suffocating. Today of all days. I just didn't expect it to turn out worse than I had expected.

Just summoning up the courage to see Ares again was hard enough. I needed to control my body from betraying what my mind and my heart need to keep a secret. Still do, in fact. I never get upset when facing old lovers, but he was family too. He has to be treated as such. But I've been through so much for him to just go back to the way things used to be between us.

And all of that under Hera's piercing stare and Zeus' big mouth, making this whole situation much more of a farce than it was supposed to be.

I should have brought my wine with me. It'd calm me down. Help me put my thoughts in order. Whom am I kidding? I have never been good at thinking. I always act on instinct, on the spur of the moment. A terrible decision, really.

I can hear footsteps behind me. They're approaching me. I know who it is, even with my back facing him. Still, I know better than to avoid his eyes again.

"Some helper told me you'd be here," Ares says. He has come to ask for explanations. It's obvious from the way he holds his body. But there are none to give. Even I don't know how I got myself in this situation in the first place.

"Who is he?" he adds.

Vain as it might turn out to be, I will try to keep him out of this. I can see the jealousy in his eyes. He won't leave. Not before getting an answer out of me first.

"Look, Ares..." I try to say his name like I am still his sister. But I don't feel like that person anymore. And he can tell when I'm trying to fool myself. "It's not that simple."

"Didn't sound like that to me," he replies. He sounds betrayed. Of course. "Zeus made it sound pretty definite. Who is he?"

I can't tell him the truth. That I'm being sold off. Ostensibly due to Father's poor business investments, when actually he wants to keep me away from whatever imaginative danger he thinks I'm in. Ares would cause an even greater scene than the one he came for. Get violent even. Sure, he was the protective brother, the only male sibling in a bunch of female ones... But he didn't come here to act like it.

He is clenching his fist and teeth, he's furrowing his eyebrows and his muscles are tense, hard as he is trying to hide it. This is me standing on the rocky path now, apparently, on my way to yet another crossroad. Attracting peril rather than hiding from it. Unable to run away. Not wishing to either.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

He utters the word with so much authority that it makes me feel uncomfortable. He comes closer, towering over me completely. My heart is beating uncontrollably and I try hard to keep my fear from showing:

"I-I can't say."

He will find out, soon enough. But I don't want to reveal Hephaestus' identity. I know how bad Ares' rage can get and I don't want a poor man who can barely walk to witness it first hand. Otherwise, I would walk into the ballroom the night of the gala hoping that Ares would not be asking all the guests if they had seen a man called Hephaestus. Considering how rare his name is, it would be child's play for Ares to track him dow _n._

But he persisted:

"Do I know him?"

I shake my head: "No."

"How long has this been going on for?"

"What?"

"Did you know him back in London?"

"I can't believe this."

I'm not stupid, I know that he wanted to cause a scene and now his wish has been fulfilled. I was just hoping that he'd be more aware of his surroundings. He has grown up in this place, too. He knows that walls have ears. Trees, too, most of the time. Yet here he is, acting like we are a normal couple, or have every right to act like one. In public of all places!

I turn to leave. I have nothing better to do. Even here, in the least suffocating of places, I feel like I can't breathe.

But he's faster. He grabs my arm and forces me to face him again.

"And that night?"

"It was just that. A night," I say, freeing myself from his grasp. "And you'd better forget about it."

"Not until you tell me all about him."

The look in his eyes scares me. I need to get out of here. As soon as possible. But not yet. I need to change his mind about us first. Once and for all.

"You don't have to know anything! I am getting married to a man you have never met. It's what's best for us. For the country."

He crosses his arms. He smirks. That mocking grin of his that I hate so much.

"Ah! So now you are playing the victim," he says. "How _convenient_ for you."

"How dare you?"

"At least I do."

Oh, how I want to slap him right now! Pin him to the ground and punch him in the face! But he would beat me if he even saw me trying. Then we would both get ourselves in an even bigger trouble than the one we were in during lunch. Why can't Ares see that?

"I'm leaving."

It's the best I can do. Before this conflict turns into a clash. And before I lose all self-control and let my feelings show. Much as I want to hurt him, I also want to kiss him. To rid him of all the anger and the frustration that has built in him. To reassure him that the other man poses no threat to him. That he doesn't amount to anything in the first place. Hard as it is for me to fight the urge.

His sarcasm does the trick:

"How _kind_ of you!"

This is it. He has crossed the line. But if it's the truth he wants, it's what he'll get. Ugly as it may seem:

"Well, I'm sorry I let you down! But I can't just wait for you with open arms and legs! If you're smart enough, you'll know why!"

"You could at least be honest with me!"

This is getting nowhere. Not with him wanting to have the upper hand. Of course. He's not that much different from his mother, after all. Never has been.

"I have a better suggestion for you!" I snap, tired of this... stupid game. "Stop being so obsessed with me! It's wrong, it's unhealthy! While you're here at least!"

I try to walk away, but he startles me. Grabbing me by the shoulders, he brings my body so close to his that I can feel his breath on my face. I look closely into his eyes, how they grow from icy cold to red with fury. He wants to kiss me, I know it. So do I. But he's hurting me. A lot. I can feel a lump in my throat and I'm trying very hard to keep my chin from trembling. Yet the harder I resist, the more I want to cry.

What is worse, he can see it. The distance between us is too short for such reactions to go unnoticed. Still, his tight grip of my shoulders doesn't get any looser.

Looks like he'll get what he wanted all along. For me to beg him.

"Please, let go of me."

Maybe I mean it both literally and metaphorically. I don't know. But I can see now, how bad his obsession with me is. It can only go downhill from there. Only this time, he is taking me with him. There's no way out of it.

Nevertheless, he does as he was told. Then he apologizes, straightening his jacket. Perhaps he has finally realized the danger we are both about to get into if people find out. This isn't London. It's a snake pit. One sudden move and we'll be eaten alive. Maybe he's too blinded by it all that he confuses drunken one-night-stands with a normal relationship. But I know better than that.

He opens his mouth to speak. Yet all has been said and done between us. There's no place for more mistakes. Not anymore.

My voice trembles as I speak:

"Just... stay away from me. Please."

I walk past him, trying not to brush against his jacket. I still want to cry, and badly so, but it's the only way I can get rid of all that frustration. Maybe I should have stayed home. But then again, it might have made matters worse.

Before I disappear from his sight, I turn to get one last glimpse of him. He has turned to the side. He can't see me from this angle. He's punching the air as a way to rid himself of all his resentment towards me. At least he has it easy. Crying is not a solution for him, it never was. Only a sign of weakness. Still, I would like to see him weep. Just once, to make sure that he does have a heart after all. That he is more than the selfish, immature man that simply goes about causing trouble.

Yet, despite all the anger, the pain, and the tears, I can still feel someone's eyes on me. But perhaps it is yet another of my mind's tricks. I knew that this family would drive me mad one day.

It had better be sooner rather than later, then. For all our sakes.

* * *

Aphrodite was right. Their little dramatic scene did have an audience.

Standing by the window of the Dining Hall, listening to Eris and Eileithyia laughing behind her, Hera was contemplating the meaning of everything she had just witnessed. Her thoughts were as contradictory as the behaviour of her son and her step-daughter. Common sense told her that siblings did not act like that, not when they hadn't seen each other for almost a year.

Sure, they had always been close, but the distance between them (or the lack thereof) and their body language were not becoming of a brother and a sister who had always enjoyed a rather special connection.

Those two were disputing like... like a couple! A pair! Like - oh dear - like _lovers_! _No, that's impossible_ , she kept repeating to herself. _They have grown up in the same family. That can't be._

Yet their body language was a little too familiar to her. Ares was in a jealous rage and Aphrodite was trying her best to avoid him. And she - she acted like she knew him a little too well. She had overpowered him, controlled him even! It brought back lively memories of the times Hera would dispute with her own husband, back to when they were still young enough to take even the slightest pleasure in their fights. She just wished that her maternal instinct would be proven wrong. That she had misunderstood Ares and Aphrodite and that they were once again acting immature for their age.

Eris' voice interrupted her trail of thoughts:

"Mother, we have to go!"

Turning on her heel, Hera took one last look outside the window. Aphrodite had disappeared from sight. She had come back inside the Palace, apparently. Ares just kept punching in the air, occasionally rubbing his hands on his head. As he always did when he was upset...

At that moment, Hera knew she would be staying up all night, trying to figure out the meaning of all that. Years of being married to her husband taught her to know better than to doubt the tension between the two. Yet, it was terribly, terribly wrong.

They were siblings, for heaven's sake!

* * *

 _16 December 2006_

 _Midnight_

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB  
_

It's not Ares' fault that I acted the way I did. He doesn't know the things that have happened in the past three months. He had better not find them out either.

Blame everything on me. I can hardly recognize myself anymore. As if some deeply buried alter ego of mine took over my body and now she acts on my behalf, destroying everything that my normal self - the one I can recognize - holds most dear. Perhaps it's better this way, I don't know. Her introversion and her wish to keep me away from harm probably does all the work. Maybe I need her to keep me away from danger. But at a prize I may not be willing to pay.

I don't want to lose myself. No matter how hard Zeus and Hera try to convince me otherwise. It's true, I am not the same person I used to be when I left for the tour. That Aphrodite was less afraid to try, she just lived for the moment, she didn't care about the consequences of her actions. Whereas the other one, the new me, is treading carefully on dangerous paths, trying very hard not to step on the wrong stone for fear she might fall.

That's what I have become. Afraid. Scared. And those people don't live. It's the one motto I have been following since I can remember myself. _Life is short. Live for the moment. Just don't care about making mistakes, it's how you grow._

That could be it. All those months of me meeting with politicians and experiencing world diplomacy first hand have taught me the lesson Hera might have wanted me to learn. To grow up and mature into my role. This could also be what Zeus' punishment was for in the first place. And now, I just feel more confused than ever before.

What if I have interpreted the elderly gypsy's prophecy wrong again? What if it was not about my parents or Ares and Hephaestus? What if it was... about me? Could the rocky path symbolize the woman I used to be while the easy road signified the woman I was meant to become? Maybe it was neither the middle of a line or the top of a love triangle I was standing on but the verge between myself and someone else. Some stranger I didn't know who offered me a better life. An easier one, living by the rules.

But I have never been one to follow other people's orders. Father's yes, because I don't have a choice. He has been the only compromise I have ever been willing to make. Yet, I always make sure to strain from the line, to go my own way. Or used to, anyway.

That other me was brave enough to embrace the danger and the thrill. She knew perfectly well the sort of men she'd bed and she woke up every morning not paying much attention to the consequences of her actions. She was drawn to the thrill of the moment. And she went for it. Every single crazy thing she could think of. Constantly.

This new me, on the other hand... I don't know. She reminds me more of Athena. That dreaded half-sister of mine to whom I haven't spoken in the longest while. The one who thinks twice, who tries to come up with a plan beforehand, who takes full responsibility for her own actions.

Yet, when have I ever done so? I admit to the things I have done, yes, but it's only part of me being honest with myself. Have I been so brainwashed by the King and the Queen to the point where I can't think straight anymore? Have I let them shape me into the woman they had wanted me to be all along?

Zeus won't let me breathe. He insists on Hephaestus, as if he is the only man left on this earth to whom I'm not related or who would make a suitable husband. Every single day I am being reminded of him, like his name has to be in my head all the time, and every damn time I hear his name I see him standing before me, gloved hands and walking stick, quite at a loss of what to do. And then there's Hera. She knows. More than she admits she does. I don't know how much exactly, but I have to keep her from delving in too deep. She will destroy me if she discovers all the secrets I keep to myself.

 _Ugh!_

There I am doing it again, worrying and fearing about other people's reactions... When I should put my own heart in order first.

Am I afraid of Ares? I need a clear, honest answer. Yes or no.

Which, apparently, I seem unable to give.

I knew he'd act like a spoiled teenager. That he'd cause a scene. But I fear he'll expect me to be his - body and soul - for all eternity. Previous relationships might have followed his rules. But it is impossible for me. I have nothing to gain from this relationship but the risk of losing everything I hold most dear. The title and the lifestyle, yes, but also my self-esteem. My self-confidence. My longest battles and greatest victories.

I have not regretted sleeping with him. Neither have there been any other lovers since him. There was hardly any time for me to set my eyes on a man and to flirt with him, maybe even bedding him if we so wished. I had to be on the road constantly and my exhaustion was greater than my thirst for adventure. And when I came back home, I did try to get him out of my system. That night I had lost my dress, it was the first night I returned to the hunt. Just looking for company for the night. Nothing more.

Somehow, I became barren of that right as well, and I have no idea why. Or who to blame.

We had agreed, Ares and I, that that fateful night would be a game of hide and seek. Except that now I realize that it has gone on for far longer than it was supposed to.

It's not like me to still be thinking of former lovers, or to sometimes dream about them, trying to relive the satisfaction they had given me. Yet, I did so with him. In a room where I can never be truly alone, and in a town he was miles away from, it was hard. I admit that, occasionally, I have also come to think that trying with someone else would be worthless. That it would be such a disappointing experience that I'd fall back into Ares' arms in an instant, looking for the roughness and the sweetness he could offer me. Generously. Not caring about the pain or the tiredness the next day. Because whatever bruise we'd give to each other would be yet another claim that we belonged to each other. Another proof that we knew each other far better than we dared admit.

Even today, I had to resist the urge to do something inappropriate. Not that I would. Being in the same room as the King and the Queen, watching the Royal Palace in all its glory when I was out in the Gardens, I felt too afraid to even dare think about it. Yet he was right there, next to me, and the feeling in my stomach told me that he was struggling as hard as me to resist the urge of cornering me in a corridor and giving in to his greatest, his wildest wishes.

He once told me that during times of war, in the past at least, the soldiers that would claim an uncharted territory would do anything in their power to keep it. It would take only a bigger, better equipped and more strategically skilled phalanx to beat them.

But Ares has never been one to follow strategy. Neither do I, thinking about it. We do know how not to leave any traces behind - as much as possible at least - and how to sneak around unnoticed. That's the thrill of secret affairs. War zones too, from the stories I've heard. Both can fill you with adrenaline and drive you mad.

He offered me just that. We had the perfect circumstances to conduct a secret affair. After all, love and war have never known any rules. Like two naughty children who refuse to be disciplined. Like us.

I am ready to be careful enough. I just worry that he will fall victim to his self-confidence and destroy everything. Arrogance has never been a good adviser and he has lots of it. It's what drew me to him in the first place.

But this is not London and we are not two strangers engaged in a dance. We don't have any masks or strong alcohol to keep us from thinking straight. We are in Athens, where people watch our every move, where privacy sounds like the right everyone else is entitled to but us. We live with the constant stress that it will be violated. We need to protect everything we have. The Monarchy, that's what. If we go down, it'll be of our very own doing. No need to blame it on other people. Except for our reflexion in the mirror.

I feel a tingle down my spine. That all too familiar sense of thrill. The excitement of danger approaching. I embrace it. If it is meant to lead me to the fiery road - be it either Ares or my old self - I will not protest. I will greet both of them with a wide smile and a warm embrace.

I've had enough of being someone else. A woman other people shaped. It is still early enough for me to rescue what I still can from the Aphrodite I recognize, the one that has always been my best friend and closest partner in crime. Of any kind.

I will make amends with Ares. But I won't break off my engagement to Hephaestus. I can't. Zeus will suspect. I don't want to imagine what will likely follow. I won't ever warm up to my intended or see him as a wife is supposed to view her husband.

But he will be the cover I'll need to hide my affair with Ares from the blazing sun. This kind of love triangle never led anywhere. I am not foolish, I know that our case will probably end bad as well.

Still, I am willing to try.

Just for the heck of it.

* * *

 _1:30 A.M._

 _Elliniko, South Athens_

Ares filled his glass again. He didn't care that he was drinking too much on an empty stomach. To tell the truth, he had no idea how many hours ago he had left the Palace. He didn't want to find out either.

All he wanted was alcohol, music, and to go unnoticed. He knew just the right spot.

It wasn't like him to find himself in such places. They smelled weird and were tiny, loud, and dark. Alas, the perfect refuge. A friend of his had told him about that place. It was as far away from the city centre as he could get, in the area where the old International Airport used to be. Somehow, the few night clubs that have been there since the 1990s had brought life back to that part of the South Athens. Still, they offered him with plenty of privacy to just drink himself to forgetfulness.

He kept seeing her face. The look in her eyes when he had brought his face as close to hers as he could. Those had been tears in her eyes but then she had told him to leave her alone. _Huh!_ Empty, meaningless words coming out of her mouth. Like all the other promises she had made. She was no different than all the other women he had met, as it turned out.

The realization hurt him more then he had expected or had ever experienced before. He had dated women who had wanted him for his looks, some who had been attracted to his wealth and status, and others who had just wanted to get their own time in the spotlight. All of them had been at his mercy. He had had what they had been after and he could take it away from them whenever his heart desired. Even if they had dared to defy him. Which no one had been stupid enough to do.

Except for her. She was the best lover he had ever had. The fact that their amorous romp defied all the laws he could think of had made it all the more exhilarating. She had left him at her mercy, ending the best night of his life abruptly the next morning, with a phrase that sounded more like a wish than a promise or an order. He was left behind, trying to take it all in and longing for more.

He looked around him. Most of the nearby tables were empty. That was odd. It was a Friday night. Early Saturday morning now actually. Normally, the place should be so full of people that you could not even hear your own voice even if you shouted. But it was better this way. The few would respect his privacy. He was one of them, after all. Needing to spend a night out as much as everyone else in there. Nevertheless, most of the customers were young people around his age, who had come either in pairs or solo. The latter group were just like him. Lost souls who had fallen victims to the charms of the wrong person. Left with no other refuge but their own feelings of remorse, hurt ego, and an unbearable sense of self pity. They, too, had been foolish enough to believe in empty promises and to fall for a woman whose beauty was proven to be venomous. Silly moths drawn to the flame.

He certainly felt like one. Like he was the stupidest man on earth, to think that she'd fall back into his arms just like that. She was right. She could never welcome him with open arms and legs. She had promised those to another. Someone who was far his superior in every respect. That was the kind of man she would dare say 'yes' to. Whose wife she'd wish to be. Someone who overshadowed him. Who'd win every battle Ares would dare challenge him to.

He had certainly won the prize already.

Suddenly, the singer came back on stage after his short break. The other customers clapped and waited for him to start singing. He was not famous by a mile, but he'd sing the songs decently enough. At least he put emotion into them, as if he wished to mirror the pain of his audience.

The orchestra began to play the music. Ares was all too familiar with the genre. It was not exactly the kind of music he'd listen to, but it was just the perfect fit for nights filled with alcohol. The notes also seemed able to express the pain he felt in a way words were unable to.

Ares threw his glass to the floor and rushed on stage. He had the sudden urge to dance. To get all that anger out of his system. One of his few good friends had once told him that if zeibekiko was a feeling, it'd be the pain before revenge. It was the kind of dance real men danced to. The slower the steps and the more determined the moves were, the more masculine the dancer proved to be.

The singer started to sing the first verse:

 _When you left, my love_

 _And left me on my own_

 _You trapped me in memories_

 _And imprisoned me there_

 _My mind was filled_

 _With thoughts of you_

 _And I didn't keep even a bit of_

 _My sanity for myself_

Throughout that part, Ares kept turning around himself, his hands wide open, as if to touch the sky. His steps were following the rhythm and his drunken state helped him stumble just as much as the dance required. After all, drunk men always managed to dance it far better than sober ones. Apparently, they were dizzy enough to dance it the way it was supposed to be danced. Not as a show-off, but a real display of a broken heart. To win over the woman that was never meant to be theirs in the first place. To make her see what she'd lose.

Then came the chorus:

 _I turned the night into day_

 _I couldn't sleep_

 _You were in my mind_

 _I kept thinking of you_

 _And when I remembered_

 _The man that had been kissing you_

 _I was destroying everything I could find_

 _I was going mad_

The other customers recognized him, of course. Some got their mobile phones out of their pockets or purses, capturing the moment, while others kept throwing him carnations and napkins - whatever they had at their disposition. That was their way to encourage him to keep on dancing. To let him know they liked his dance. It was this odd kind of give and take that made those nightclubs so special. After all, they were all there for the same reason. To forget about their daily struggles and enjoy themselves.

The bravest people in the audience joined him on stage. But they wouldn't ask to claim his place by dancing nearby. Until the song would come to an end, he was the king of the scene. Three to four people formed a circle around him, clapping their hands to encourage him to keep it up. Two of them even brought dishes with them, those that were custom made to be broken on the dance floor. With every new step he took and with every turn he made, they'd break them at his feet. To thank them, he'd step on the broken plates and the carnations that had been thrown at him, to crash them down further.

 _At least those could be smashed without putting up a fight,_ Ares thought.

Suddenly, someone from the crowd raised his glass and congratulated 'the Prince'.

Soon enough, the others followed. They all raised their glasses and wished him well. The song was about to end by the time Ares' eyes landed on one of his clappers. The only woman in the group of people that encircled him. She was kneeling in front of him, clapping her hands according to the rhythm. The only one who had managed to get it right.

Then the song ended.

The spectators applauded him, but he wouldn't get off the stage just yet. Some of them approached him, wishing to congratulate him in person. Before he knew it, his need for privacy had vanished and he indulged in the attention her received. Before he knew it, they would leave him on his own again. An odd kind of solidarity, having all those people knowing your secret, yet being certain that they wouldn't share it with anyone else the minute they stepped out of that nightclub. They could guess what it was. From what they had managed to make out of his dance anyway.

Finally, the woman approached him. Like everyone else that had congratulated him, she, too, had no idea how to curtsy and so she shook hands with him instead. But she was more straightforward, patting him on the shoulder too, as she told him how much she had enjoyed watching him up there. All the while, Ares was taking a good, long look at her.

She was as tall as Aphrodite, yet looked nothing like her. Matter of fact, she was like the poorest and most cheaply dressed version of her. Perhaps she was another lost soul looking for someone to spend the night with. An unknown man she could use to enjoy herself. Ah, yes. She and Aphrodite were awfully similar in that respect. But Ares was determined to have at least one of them for his own pleasure.

Since the Crown Princess was way out of his reach now, the stranger would do.

* * *

 _2:15 A.M._

 _Royal Palace, Athens_

Hera rushed to the window first thing. She didn't care that the sitting hall was dark and that she might stumble upon one of the many heavy furniture. There was some light coming in from the street, which she believed was more than enough for her to find her way and pay attention to what was going on at the main road outside. But Zeus had other ideas.

Sleep deprived and sick of his wife's ridiculous fears, he turned on the lights to keep him awake and rushed to the mini bar to pour himself a drink. Taking a look at Hera, sitting on a stool by the window 'just in case', he opened the bottle of vodka and filled a glass for her too. Last time she was acting weird like that, they were proud parents of rebellious teenagers. Heaven knows, Hebe would soon join that club as well. Zeus took a good look at his glass of whiskey. He poured himself some more. Just for what was to come in the future.

A sight similar to the one he was looking at now, that's what.

When he handed Hera her drink, she scoffed and gave it back to him:

"I am not _that_ worried!"

"Right," Zeus said sarcastically.

Then the sound of a car honking. Hera immediately looked out of the window, even stretching her hand to draw the curtain. Good for her, Zeus cut her off:

"Woman, you kept pacing up and down in your room, then stormed into mine, turned on all the god-damned lights you could find and had me follow you here just to look at you staring out of the window. Drink this or I will!"

He was too tired to deal with his Hera's caprices and her trying to distort the truth. Which she kept up:

"I'm just concerned that Ares hasn't come back yet."

And just like that, Zeus flew back to 1993. Ares, then an awry fifteen-year-old, had only recently discovered the thrill of fast vehicles and he'd take his adoptive half-sister on trips around Athens on a motorbike he'd have stolen from one of their security officers. He hadn't cared that he hadn't had a driver's license or that it had been the future Queen he had been taking with him. As for his fourteen-year-old heiress, she had known better than to defy the King's wishes back then. She had made his life hell instead, by embarking on whatever crazy adventure Ares had had in mind. Or just getting in trouble on her own. Good old times!

"He is twenty-nine years old! At his age, I had children and a kingdom!"

If only Hera would listen...

"He is troubled by something," she said.

Sinking on a sofa, Zeus let out: "He wants to have a good time."

But apparently, it was too late for Hera to have a sense of humour. Looking at her watch, she shrieked: "At a quarter past two in the morning?"

 _What the hell does time have to do with anything?_

"He's young!" Zeus said instead. "He's been in that Base for two months, he does need some time off. After all, I don't recall you worrying so much when he had travelled to Europe."

Hera was - once again - more focused on the empty road outside their window, but she had listened to Zeus' words:

"When was that?" she asked.

Zeus stifled down a yawn: "Four months ago."

He had to give it to her, though, despite her anxiety, she had a great memory. Which, sometimes, was more of a curse than a blessing:

"He'd been with some... some friends of his then," she said, quite unsure of the true identity - or gender - of the people Ares had gone on holiday with. As far as they had been concerned, it was just him and some old friends since high school, but his parents had always liked to think they knew him better than that.

"But still, you had to investigate him on their whereabouts."

Not a pleasant memory, to tell the truth. But he never dared tell Hera that:

"You do the same thing with Aphrodite," she hissed, "and _don't_ give me that look!"

She even pointed her finger at him. Which meant that there was no way Zeus could defend himself. Otherwise, he'd explain to her that he worried about Aphrodite so much because the future of the Monarchy was in her hands. So, it was his duty as a father and a King to make sure that she never walked out of the straight white line he had drawn for her. Surely, Hera could remember the anguish it took to convince the Crown Princess to even step on it in the first place.

"Fine!" he let out instead. "But you are very attached to him and it's no good for him, he's not a boy anymore!"

Hera hid her face in her hands. The last thing she needed was a criticism on her motherhood. And by her very own husband, of all people.

"It's just a night out," Zeus furthered. "Not a big deal. Who knows, he might have also found a woman to spend the night with. He's a man. He needs his fair share of adventures."

Hera was no fool. She could guess where Ares had gone and she was certain that he would wake up in a bed that wasn't his. She just wished that his company for the night would not be the same woman for whom he had caused a scene earlier that day. That awful, tingly feeling in her stomach hadn't left her since she had witnessed the two arguing in the garden. But she also had another major concern:

"But what if something happens to him? He doesn't have security with him, remember? You stripped him of it years ago."

Zeus stood up and rushed to the mini bar again. He needed a refill, and fast.

"He's in the Army. He can fire a gun just fine."

Hera faced him, her eyes wide with worry:

"You're saying he's carrying a pistol with him?"

At that moment, Zeus realized that that detail had escaped him. It wouldn't surprise him if he did. But he couldn't tell Hera that.

"I don't know," he said to comfort her. "But if he calls us to get him out of trouble because we can certify his identity, we will find out."

Hera burst out laughing. Zeus joined her. They both recalled the time Ares had called them after being arrested. It was the day he had passed his driver's exam and Zeus had allowed him to drive his Jaguar. On the condition, however, that he would return it in the same excellent condition that he had found it in. To convince him, Ares had promised that he would not drive away from the city centre either. The young man had been so excited to finally be in command of a _real_ car, that he had forgotten the basics of the highway code. When he had called his parents shortly after midnight, he had to explain to them how he had been arrested for drunk-driving in a car with royal number plates, above speed limit, without a license or an ID. The only ones that could get him out of that mess had been his own parents, since his attempts to convince the police officer that he had been Prince Ares in the flesh had failed. In the end, Zeus himself had had to show up - to everyone's astonishment - and get him out of trouble. The minute Zeus had taken hold of the steering wheel of his beloved car again, he had began to lecture Ares on his unruly behaviour and how he should not have come to his rescue but let him suffer the consequences of his actions instead. Thus began their ever-worsening strained relationship.

"Now, drink your vodka," Zeus let out, bringing Hera back to reality.

Twisting her glass in her hands, she remained silent for a few seconds.

"We really are overprotective, aren't we?" she asked. "As parents?"

Zeus took his wife's face in his hands, forcing her to look at him:

"Better overprotective than uncaring. In our case, it's for the best."

Hera nodded. It wasn't easy for them to raise their children in the spotlight. Perhaps, if those had been more willing to cooperate, or had tried to hide their wilderness, things would have been easier. But it was too late to change them now. The rebellious teenagers had turned into unconventional adults. Like it or not, Zeus and Hera could not interfere in their lives anymore. They no longer had the right to.

Suddenly, the main entrance to the private quarters flew wide open. A guard stepped into the bright sitting hall, looking for anything suspicious. Good for him, Zeus and Hera noticed him soon enough:

"We're fine!" they shouted at the same time.

Embarrassed to have interrupted what looked like a tender private moment, the guard bowed hastily and left at once. As soon as the door behind him closed, the King and the Queen burst out laughing.

They could never have too much police protection in this place!

* * *

 _2:35 A.M._

 _Alimos, South Athens_

He couldn't think straight and, in all fairness, neither did he want to. He just needed to conquer a woman - any woman - as a means to satisfy his own vanity. It needed to recover the blow it had suffered from the lady he had danced for, the one that had betrayed him yet acted like it was all his fault. She had crashed all of his hopes and dreams with her high heels the moment she had turned her back on him and left.

Hopefully never to return.

The woman in his arms was different. She didn't smell of expensive perfume but of sweat, smoke, and cheap alcohol. The scent of Athens by night. She had straight, brown hair and pretty sure the closest she had ever come to the upper class lifestyle was reading the gossip columns.

She had flirted shamelessly with him. After all, he was the man all women wanted to bed. And if he was generous enough to offer them a night, they came back asking for more. Only to find the door shut. By him. Not the other way around.

But none of that mattered now. All Ares wanted was to get Aphrodite out of his system, and fast. If it was with that stranger, so be it.

He could pretend he was in Alexandroupoli, visiting one of those "homes". Paid love, just what he needed. No fuss. Just a few minutes of physical pleasure and the subsequent return to normalcy. No phone calls or stupid promises.

He wouldn't ask for the brunette's name. He wouldn't even look at her. She was as tall and slim as the woman he had been trying to forget. That was enough. His hands knew the way. They easily found the right areas to explore and he enjoyed her tangling her fingers in his hair, moaning his name and biting his lips.

Ah, yes. She was just like her. Only different.

He let her take him to her bedroom. It was easy to find. Her apartment was tiny, just a sitting room and an adjoining kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom. Taking hold of his collar, she guided him to her bed, laughing gleefully. She didn't have the kind of melodic laughter that Aphrodite had but a loud, playful, even mocking one.

As he lay atop her on the much-used sheets, he discovered that she was not one for much foreplay. She just wanted to get it over and done with. She did help him out of his clothes, of course, and he made sure to free her of hers. He still wouldn't open his eyes. Last time he had done so, every detail of his lover's body had been printed in his memory in the greatest detail. As had the visible bruises on her backside. His marks on her. The proof of the decision she kept denying she had taken.

He could feel the brunette's hands on him. Soon enough, Aphrodite would be erased from his mind and this... obsession as she had called it would end. He would go back to being his former, normal self. The man that knelt before no woman. The brutal lover that all females worshiped.

If only _she_ would disappear from his sight!

Even now, as he was trying desperately to break free of Aphrodite's tight chains, he found himself begging to be her slave. Her plaything. She was taunting him, with that Mona Lisa smile of hers, the long black eyelashes and her crimson lipstick accentuating her fiery glare. If he dared look any deeper, he'd see her golden irises shining like fire in the wild ocean that was her indigo eyes.

He knew that stare. She had claimed him. Now, it was too late.

He opened his eyes. He retreated. The brunette understood.

"Don't worry," she told him. "It happens to men sometimes."

"You don't understand," he replied, trying hard not to hide his sense of failure. "This is the first time."

Throwing her head back, the brunette laughed out loud. Insultingly, hurting his ego even more. He couldn't accept that kind of harsh treatment any longer. He had tried to claim two women, only to have his lost self-confidence shrunk even further by both of them. The blond one for accepting to dance along and the brunette for proving herself unworthy of such an honour.

He could see it now. That woman could never amount to anything compared to Aphrodite. That incident had been his body's way of telling him. He could never be free of her curse until he took her again. And again. To make her bow instead.

It's funny, how he had promised to protect her from the witches, only to figure out that she had been one all along. The best of her kind.

Ares got up and started getting dressed. Much to the brunette's dismay. Well, that was something, at least.

"You know, we could try again," she said, trying to hold him back.

"No use. After all, I had someone else in mind all along."

He wouldn't tuck his shirt inside his trousers or tie his necktie. It would take time, which he could not afford to waste. He was sober enough to drive (it had been him who had brought them in that tiny apartment after all) but he felt like he needed a few more drinks before he dared face her again. Some much-welcome poison to give him the strength he needed to push her against the wall and dance with her again. He wouldn't go to the ones in her hotel, no. He'd go somewhere else. Athens was a big city, after all. There were plenty of places he could visit. And all were close enough to where she was living. He didn't care that the King would most likely be informed about his visit. After all, intermarriage was common practice for people like them.

She might have had difficulty accepting it, but he was hers. Every inch of his skin, every fiber of his being. It was her doing, her proudest achievement. And he would make her see it.

Like it or not, no one could hide from the truth.

Least of all the ones who had brought it to light in the first place.

* * *

 _3:30 A.M._

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB  
_

I wake up to the sound of Blanche's barks. I stir, blink, and suddenly, everything comes into focus. I am lying on my bed, still in my day's clothes. Well, that's odd. I don't remember falling asleep in the first place. But something has happened. Why would Blanche be alarmed otherwise? Her tail is up but not moving. She stands on the bed, looking to the left, to the door that connects the bedroom with the living room via the study. I rarely see her like that...

Suddenly, the door nearby, the one leading to the corridor, flies open. Blanche storms out and in comes my friendly maid. In her pajamas. What time is it?

"I'm so sorry for entering like that, Miss. But His Royal Highness is here. The receptionist called that he was coming, but now the guards won't let him in the Suite. From what I was told, he's not sober."

Oh, for heaven's sake... He really doesn't take no for an answer, does he? This is the part where I should feel grateful for Zeus Almighty's persistence, then. Who knew, his idea to station two additional security officers dressed as civilians outside my very door would come in handy one day...

Yes, I will go to that great length if Ares is unwilling or unable to listen.

"What time is it?"

"Three thirty in the morning, Miss."

I don't even think twice. I just get up and storm out of the room immediately. Blanche sees me as I enter the foyer and wags her tail happily, but I order her to go back to the bedroom. I had made an agreement with the hotel administration not to make her presence known, if I want her to keep her in my room. Which, sadly, I can't say applies to everyone...

Least of all the man that is causing a scene right outside my room...

Both of my maids keep a safe distance from the double doors that are the entrance and I stand behind them, right between the corridor and the foyer. I can still hear him. He demands to see me and the guards keep him behind. Frankly, I don't know who will manage to beat whom first. The security officers are experts in martial arts, but so is Ares. They're not allowed to have any guns with them, neither of them. That's just a detail though. I worry more about the guests from the nearby rooms. I can imagine them, poking out their mobile phones and filming the fight...

Not that I'd blame them, frankly. The hotel hasn't offered that kind of deluxe entertainment since my grandparents hosted their engagement reception in there. How long ago was that? Besides, it's also a good lesson in vocabulary.

See, all three men swear. A lot. Looks that even my own security have decided to let go of courtesy and now try to get rid of him as fast as they can. But Ares has none of it. I can picture him, fighting them off of him, them still holding him back, and all of them losing their temper so much that things will soon get out of hand. More than they already have. If that is possible.

Under different circumstances, I'd feel flattered by all of this. No one ever comes outside someone else's door that early in the morning unless they are desperately in love with them. I have heard plenty of stories, yet it had never happened to me. My cage has always been too safely guarded for me to be allowed that kind of public displays of affection...

And then I hear my name:

"Aphrodite!"

Oh, no. No, he is about to spill everything! He is three words away from revealing the secret. Unless the hotel security is faster. Then we'll be both in trouble, which means that Zeus will find out about it.

Between the people whispering and Thunder knowing, I'll take the former. By a far mile. But I can't risk either at this hour.

Without a second thought, I rush up to the doors but my maids are faster. They unlock and open both of them wide, not caring that they are in their pajamas or about Ares storming in. I stand in the centre of the picture, hands crossed, trying to hide my horror at what I find.

Ares is holding one of the guards by the collar, pinning him to the floor. He holds his right hand on a fist in the air, about to punch him, while the other guard is trying to hold Ares back. But to no avail. Among the three men, Ares is clearly the most well-built. Were he sober, or at least less drunk, he'd have knocked off both guards. Once, as a game, he had practiced his judo skills with four of the our best trained security officers and beat all of them, much to Zeus' pride. It was a competition which, if Ares had won, Zeus had promised that he'd rid him of his security detail.

But now I wish that The Big Boss would have given him a lecture on the subject and changed Ares' mind. Perhaps then I could have avoided such an embarrassing sight.

Acting on reflex, the other maid - the one spying on me - rushes to help the guard on the floor while the guard who is trying to hold Ares back by taking a good grip of his shoulders notices the wide open door. I touch my left ear with my right hand. It's a move that means that they can let this person near me. Part of the secret sign language between us and our assigned security details. But when the guard tries to push Ares into the room, Ares manages to free himself from his grip, turns to face him and punches him in the face.

All right. That was it. The show ends now.

"Ares!"

He turns, looks at me, and enters the Suite. Without saying a word, good for him. Both of my maids rush up to the man that Ares hit. Ares is standing in front of me, towering over me as he has always done. Still, I manage to get a glimpse of the poor officer as both girls help him up. He brings his hand to his nose, trying to figure out just how bad it is.

The maids look at me, quite at a loss of what to do.

"Take him to the dining room," I say. There is a mini bar nearby, with plenty of ice for them to use.

They carry him in while the other guard stands up and promptly closes the double doors behind him. I expect them all to disappear from sight before I can take a good look at Ares. Well, doesn't he look like he has had a long night? His appearance certainly reveals as much. His shirt is wrinkled, as if he took it off plenty of times so far. Or had someone else do the deed for him. He smells of smoke and cheap alcohol. Like one of those run-down night clubs that are only frequented by people who simply have one too many problems. Other than that, he looks weak. Humiliated, as if something terrible has happened to him. If the smell of his breath and his previous maliciousness are anything to go by, I think I can guess what it was exactly.

Then I notice the smudge on his collar. Lipstick. It only becomes visible if you take a careful look at his shirt. Like someone wiped her mouth on it...

Standing before me is the man whose return I dreaded, because I kept thinking he was too obsessed with me to think straight. Much as I was charmed by the mere thought. Still. He is the same man for whom I had to endure two of the hardest and oddest months of my life. For whom I had thrown everything and rode to the unknown with, only to end up in a cheap hotel for a night that ought to remain in the past.

And that's how he took revenge for my "cruelty". For asking him to leave me alone so that no one - especially Hera - would find out about us. The man who I once thought was the very definition of manliness, but who turned out to be a weakling. A coward. Trying to drown his problems with alcohol and to fix his broken ego in the company of... other women.

That could never give him what I can. That do not know him as well as I do. That will never hate him as much as I do now.

He opens his mouth to speak:

"Aphrod-"

But my hand strikes his face faster.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I'm so terribly sorry for the lack of updates, but I suffered a terrible case of writer's block from which I've yet to recover. This chapter is the result of much frustration and lots of drafts, but it's the best I could come up with so... It's somewhat inspired by _House of Cards_ because monarchs are involved in politics, even when they have a ceremonial role, so I can't keep politics entirely out of the story. BUT don't worry, there's still some Aphrodite/Ares action going on :) I apologize in advance for my terrible kissing scenes...  
**

 **Also, a few things to make your reading easier:**

 **1) The northern suburbs of Athens is the most affluent part of the city. Psychiko is a largely residential area and it's where an actual former residence of the actual former GRF was located.**

 **2) Ermou Street (** **Οδός Ερμού, "Hermes Street") is a 1.5 km long road in central Athens, five minutes away from the Grande Bretagne in Syntagma Square. The street is the largest shopping venue of Athens with various boutiques, bookstores, media stores etc and it connects Syntagma Square with the Kerameikos archaeological site through the old (and rather affluent) areas of Monastiraki, Psiri, and Thiseio.**  
 ** **Imagine the Greek equivalent to Oxford Street in London, shopping-wise.****

 **3) Maximus Mansion (Μέγαρο Μαξίμου) is actually the official seat of the Greek PM, and yes, it is located right next to the current Presidential Palace, aka former Royal Palace, aka the Royal Palace in this story.**

 **4) The Smile of the Child (Το Χαμόγελο του Παιδιού) is a non-profit charity that provides a better home to the children that are orphaned or were taken away from their abusive families. It's one of the largest (if not the largest) charities in Greece.**

 **One more thing: in the previous chapter, I said that December 15th and 16th are weekdays. I googled the 2006 calendar for Greece and those dates were actually Friday and Saturday respectively, so I went back and changed it. Just pointing it out because I give the right data in this chapter.  
**

 **Reviews are always welcome :)**

 **OK i shut up now.**

* * *

 _16 December 2006_

 _Cronus and Rhea's Palace, Psychiko, Northern suburbs of Athens_

The old man leaned back on his chair and breathed out the heavy smoke. His Cuban cigar was burning in the ashtray, filling the room with its intoxicating smell. He gulped down the limp rising in his throat. He'd spit blood later on. Smoking had been doing that to him a lot lately. But, like all bad habits, he couldn't stop it. Neither did he want to. It was his only source of entertainment in this boring mansion. As was reading the day's newspapers.

They were scattered all over his mahogany desk. The political ones did not draw his son's reign with the brightest of colours. The political parties were disputing with the Conservative government over the reforms in the economy and the educational system, retirement fees were being cut in the public sector, and employees and students took to the streets to protest the new measures.

Another day in Greece, simply put.

Cronus didn't care about them. After all, those had become a daily occurrence since his son had ascended the throne. Yet, no one cared to write about the really interesting news. Except for a tabloid.

Ares, the miasma of the Royal Family, the proof of Zeus' greatest drawback, was back and causing further damage to his father's reputation. As if it was not in tatters already.

The photograph adorned the entire front page. He was standing outside what looked like the Royal Suite at the Hotel Grande Bretagne, pining a guard to the floor while another was trying (in vain) to pull him back. Taken via a mobile phone by a customer occupying a nearby room.

 _Such marvelous news!_

He brought his cigar back to his mouth. After he inhaled the smoke, he felt a pain in his chest. He didn't pay it much attention. There was obviously a story going on between Ares and Aphrodite, and that was more important. For years, he had witnessed the way they kept treating each other. He would not be surprised in the slightest to find out that the inevitable had finally happened. Or, at least, was about to.

Ah, yes. They made such a great pair! The agitator and the seductress. The two naughtiest members of the Royal Family. The man everyone despised and the woman all adored.

It would be the greatest scandal to ever hit the family. And the sweetest revenge Cronus could take on his son.

He knew that a romance between those two might lead to the abolition of the Monarchy altogether. But he didn't care. At the end of the day, it would all be Zeus' fault. He had been the one to transform the role of the King of the Hellenes into a simple decoration. A puppet to be tossed around, doing as he was told by a bunch of stupid politicians. He'd wear whatever outfit they instructed him to wear, going from Socialist to Conservative and vice versa overnight. All thanks to a simple general election.

Zeus was definitely familiar with the thrill of being elected. That alone had ruined his reign before it had even started.

 _What sort of King gets elected by his people?_

Not that he should have expected better from him... As long as he could remember, Cronus had always been disappointed in Zeus. His youngest son was breaking one rule after another. When he was little, it was the protocol. Now that he's an adult, it has expanded to his political power. He had reached the peak of that huge mountain of mistake with that dreadful referendum in 1977. That year, Zeus had broken one simple rule which all Kings ought to follow. He had bowed to the nation. Literally and metaphorically. He had actually knelt before a crowd of onlookers during a public appearance. That shameful act had been captured on camera and that photo of his - the most famous one - was still widely discussed. Even now, after he had proven what a failure of a monarch he was, people were still praising Zeus for doing such a 'humble but deeply meaningful' thing.

Pure crap!

The throne was earned by birthright! It was a job for life! Wasn't it for those stupid so-called Conservatives agreeing to help Zeus claim the throne, Cronus would still be King. Celebrating a glorious forty-four years on the throne, thus becoming the longest-reigning King of the Hellenes in the history of the nation.

A record his son wanted for himself apparently.

If those two of his children let him, of course.

Most people would think that Ares had went to visit yet another random woman. Only those who knew Aphrodite's actual address could read between the lines. It was all there. That scene Ares had caused in the early morning hours was not befitting of a brother visiting his sister. He looked drunk, exhausted, and eager for something. Even better, he looked mesmerized. Eager. In awful need of her embrace.

How ironic.

Ares, the violent and troublesome womanizer, had become yet another victim to Aphrodite's charm. Like so many others before him. Except that he had joined her endless list of lovers right on time. Just as the whole of the Royal Family was preparing for Hera's lavish gala and Zeus was about to marry her off to that horrid ogre, Hephaestus.

Which, considering his son's disastrous business activities, would happen soon enough. But he was stupid. Of course Aphrodite would never consent to an arranged marriage! She had that childish belief that people should marry for love. Especially in their world! If her disastrous first meeting with Hephaestus was anything to go by, she would definitely go on giving the poor man a hard time after she had become his wife. It would not surprise Cronus in the slightest if she set her plan in action within the first few seconds of her marriage either.

Not that he cared about her much. But it was all still so awfully ironic. Aphrodite had always gone about creating scandal, only to survive it with as little harm done to her perfect image as possible. Even that picture fiasco in November was now long forgotten and soon after, she had managed to reemerge as the nation's sweetheart.

 _Sweetheart!_

What a dreadfully romantic notion for the people to have for their future monarch! Reigning kings and queens ought to be feared by their subjects, not loved! No matter what it took, they had to destroy their enemies and force even their closest allies not to dare defy, doubt, or challenge them. Cronus' motto declared as much as well. _Better feared than loved._

He did give his granddaughter credit for one thing, however. She knew how to outsmart her enemies – her own parents included – and to fool the people into seeing her as the rightful queen. A woman with perfect skin and the looks of a porcelain doll wearing a fancy gown, meeting world leaders, touring the world, and doing an impressive amount of charity. The perfect propaganda!

Cronus brought his cigar back to his mouth. He inhaled twice in a row. The smoke burned his lungs but he didn't care. The mere act gave him a sense of power. He still hadn't accepted that he had been stripped of it. Twenty-three years might have gone by, but he still felt as degraded as he did when he had signed his abdication papers. The very same day, he had moved into his parents' old house. Even though he had been born in it, he hated it. It was a palace only by name. In practice, it was a two-story mansion, like all others in this area. Uranus and Gaia had bought it after Tatoi had burned down in the late 1920s and they needed a place to call their private residence. By the time the Palace of Tatoi had been rebuilt, the 'palace' at Psychiko had become their home; and Cronus' current place of exile.

He preferred Tatoi by a far mile. Now, that was a Palace fit for a King! When he had asked Zeus for permission to move there a few years later, his son would hear none of it. But now things were about to change. If Cronus was lucky enough, Aphrodite would become Queen while her grandfather was still alive. With a little convincing, she could fulfill his "final" wish.

He inhaled again and felt another limp rising in his throat. Opening the tabloid, he read the article very carefully. Halfway through, he smiled widely. That scary grin he was so famous for.

"Now, son," he said out loud. "Let me see how you will handle _this_ crisis!"

His evil laughter soon turned into a loud cough. Taking his handkerchief out of his pocket, he brought it to his mouth. After he removed it, he noticed how the white silk had been marked with red spots. In about five minutes he'd find himself in the bathroom, with awful pains on his sides and chest, coughing until he could not breathe anymore.

Suddenly, his eyes fell on an old framed picture. The smaller copy of an official portrait. It displayed a smiling woman, dressed in her finest evening gown and donning the most expensive green sapphires a woman could own. She looked younger than her forty-three years, thanks to her captivating eyes. They matched the precious gems of her jewellery, as if they did it on purpose. People couldn't help feeling enchanted by them. Same for Cronus.

He hated that stare. It carried the kind of wisdom and strength that only survivors possess.

He detested that that woman, too. She was his greatest shame. His wife and queen, the mother of his children, had turned out a madwoman. She had left for Crete, the most anti-monarchical place in Greece, without even saying goodbye. Three decades of marriage flew to the wind, just like that.

Still, she haunted him. Like a ghost. Even via a picture that was some forty years old.

Acting on reflex, he pressed it down. Too late. He could already hear her voice in his head.

 _He's only a boy_. _He makes mistakes._

Cronus couldn't tell if she was referring to Zeus or to Ares. But it didn't matter.

"He's a man, Rhea," he said. "Real men control fire, not play with it. Otherwise they'll get their fingers burned."

He tossed the tabloid aside. His cigar lay on the ashtray, burning still. One of those servants would make sure to tidy everything up later.

Yet, as Cronus leaned back on his chair, he could still hear her voice in his head:

 _Be careful there. You have their blood on your hands._

He stood still. He knew perfectly well what she meant. She had uttered those words to his face. Many years ago.

For heaven's sake, it's been almost two decades since she had left!

Couldn't she stop haunting him at last?

* * *

 _10:00 A.M._

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

I slapped him. I really did.

I don't know what had gotten into me. Everything, I guess. The stress of seeing him again, the scene he caused, the truth he stunk of...

All thanks to Zeus Almighty's inability to keep his big mouth shut.

Don't get me wrong, I don't like violence. But sometimes, even I lose my temper. Last night, I had promised to myself that I would give Ares the green light, no matter what. Today, I was planning to make amends with him. This way, everything would go back to normal.

Until I saw him standing there, weak, tired, and defeated. He had come straight into the snake pit, ready to fall into my arms, begging silently for the one thing I could never give him. Call me a bad person, but I actually enjoyed seeing him like that. The image of the perfect male he so greatly clings on to was destroyed within seconds. He let his vulnerable side show. He was at my mercy.

And then I saw the smudge of lipstick on his collar.

Impossible as it may seem, now I have to be the good sister who is mad at her walking trouble of a brother, but who gives him a shelter nonetheless. Because it's what she must do.

What she's always done...

Whom am I kidding? Of course he wouldn't wait for me! It's very typical of him to go looking for conquest after conquest, leaving various little operations unfinished. Chaos runs in his veins. He isn't patient; he never was. He can't wait long enough for a woman to make up her mind about him. Twenty-four hours sounds like an eternity to him. He has never been interested in having a serious relationship. Most of his flings are one-night-stands, because they give him exactly what he wants. To have fun, to forget about his troubles in the arms of a pretty woman... There's plenty of fish in the sea, after all.

Yet, this was not how he had treated me. Both in London and at the Royal Palace, he made me believe that he was mine, and mine only. He didn't put it into words. Neither did he need to. I know the touch of men well enough to translate its secret meanings. His caresses and kisses alone proved that he had not touched another woman that way before. It was terrifying. But oh, so mesmerizing.

Childish as this notion might be, I felt like I could swim the deepest sea for him. If only just to relive the same kind of thrill.

How funny is that... I must have grown as possessive of him as he is of me...

Nevertheless, he keeps confusing me. I stayed up all night, trying to figure out my feelings towards him. Yes, I am jealous of him. I know that I have fallen in too deep and that it's too late to turn back now. He feels the same way. Why would he fall that low otherwise?

This morning, my friendly maid saw the dark circles under my eyes. I must have looked as exhausted as I felt. After she noticed that I wouldn't touch my breakfast, she asked me if I was unwell. I reassured him that I was just fine and sent her to Ermou Street, just five minutes away from the hotel on foot, to buy a couple of new shirts and suits for Ares. She could find his size in the fabric tags in his shirt and jacket, which he had left in the bathroom. He would wear the ones he liked best. But I won't have him walking around in last night's outfit. I even lent her one of my own pantsuits and coat, so that she could shop in the most expensive stores unnoticed. Good for her, we have the same body type...

She left half an hour ago. Until she comes back, I have plenty of time to confront the bull in the china store that is sleeping right across my bedroom.

Walking through the bathroom and the small corridor with my boudoir and the wine cellar, I reach the private gym. Ares is sleeping on the massage bed, with a pillow and a blanket my maids provided him with. It is the only piece of furniture in here long and wide enough to fit him. My maids sleep on the sofa-beds the suite provides us with, in what used to be the media room. His trousers are safely placed on the treadmill nearby. I am holding his shirt - the proof of all evil - and I sit right opposite him, in front of the small adjacent sauna.

Perhaps I should have had him sleep in there instead. Who knows, that could have taught him a lesson for a change...

I bring the shirt to my face. I have a rather sensitive nose, which enables me to tell smells apart, even when those are perfectly mixed together. It still stinks of smoke, cheap alcohol, his cologne, and that other woman's perfume.

Well, that explains a lot.

I don't know who she is or where they all honesty, I don't care either. All I know is that she has no idea how to wear perfume, and that reveals more about her than any description Ares could give. She was desperate to find a man. That's why she showered herself with it. It was her way of standing out. She is obviously the hit-and-run kind of girl, who does not care about the joy of flirting and has no time for foreplay. Maybe she doesn't know how to play the game. A woman's perfume and her outfits ought to follow the same rule of conduct: it is _you_ wearing _it_ , not the other way around. It shouldn't make you stand out. Rather, it has to make people attracted to you, have them be curious about you, reassure them that they can get to know you. Whether you want to flirt or not, it should always be mixed with your own, natural essence. A unique and very distinctive smell is created that way, which is yours and yours alone. And the next time people smell your perfume, they can recognize it and think of you, first thing.

A game of hide and seek of sorts.

No wonder he came begging for me instead, then.

I lay his shirt on my lap. I'm wearing a simple, floor-length black and red floral dress, red short heels, hair down, scarlet lipstick and the most natural make-up I could match with it. No jewelery.

The ideal outfit to enjoy the view in front of me.

Ares doesn't stay in one place when he sleeps. He tosses and turns, kicking the poor blanket which has now ended up as a pile between his legs. His back is facing me, which allows me to admire this marvel of man unnoticed.

He has not changed at all. The toned muscles of his body are on plain sight. Only a few healing bruises and scars here and there destroy his perfect skin, but that is the outcome of life in the Army, I guess. Other than that, he is still the same brawny man I had come to make mine. Looking at him in the calmness of the room, I feel a tingle down my spine. I can feel his arms around me, how safe yet tiny they made me feel... Those hands that know how to touch in all the right places, the lips that tasted like the sweetest wine...

If I allowed myself to give in to my feelings, I would walk up to him. I'd only have to stretch out my hand and run my fingers over his body. Starting from his thick neck, running down along his wide shoulders to his bare chest, then draw an invisible straight line all the way down to-

 _Concentrate!_

As far as I'm concerned, I am supposed to be turning down Ares' advances, not giving in to them. What am I doing?

There are people outside. My spying maid and bodyguard, the other security officer, and my friendly maid. What if she comes back any minute now?

Hard as it is, I must resist him. Whatever it takes.

I can already tell that it will be easier said than done...

Maybe I should just leave him be. I could confront him later. While he's having breakfast in the dining room, perhaps. It was terrible idea for me to come here in the first place. What if he wakes up suddenly? What if we're being eavesdropped?

Honestly, the things he makes me do...

The massage bed squeaks. It's too late for me to do anything now. He stirs, turns, opens his eyes...

Show time.

"Cheap lipstick," I say. He jumps up. I go on: "Pink. Lots of perfume... Well! She must have been _quite_ the something."

It's not hard for me to be bitter. Handsome as he might be, his shirt still stinks. A lot.

He doesn't say anything. Instead, he keeps looking at me, rather transfixed and confused as to why I am here. He looks at me as if I'm a ghost or something. On reflex, I let the shirt fall to the ground. I won't allow him to exit this room until I get all the answers I came for. In great detail, preferably.

But apparently, he is not sober enough to recognize his surroundings yet.

"Where am I?" he asks, sitting up on his elbows.

He has actually been in this room before. Plenty of times. It's the only place where he can work out in peace. Or so he would tell me.

"Where you ended up last night," I reply, trying very hard to concentrate on being mad at him and not on his physical attributes. "You knocked down two of my security officers to get here. One of them is currently in the hospital with a broken nose."

He stands still for a few seconds. Then, as if remembering the scene, he mutters under his breath:

"Shit!"

"My thoughts exactly." I cross my legs one on top of the other. "Though, if you are to stay here, you have to mind your language. I am already knee-high in trouble. Don't make it worse."

"How long have I been sleeping?"

Great, he's asking all the serious questions now.

"Don't worry," I say sarcastically. "You don't have a plane to catch. Sadly."

He gets the message, that he should go back to his base. He doesn't look pleased. At all:

"Seriously?"

"Well if you so greatly persist. Six hours. Are you happy now?"

He returns the sarcasm: "Very!"

"Good." Leaning to the side, I pick up the shirt from the floor and hold it in such a way that the smudge is in plain sight. "Well, seeing that you are awake now, perhaps you could explain to me the meaning of this."

I throw the shirt at him and he catches it in the air. He takes a good, long look at it. His fists are tight. I can't tell who he's most furious with: me or him?

We both remain silent for a few seconds. He is trying to come up with an excuse, I hope. But the longer he takes to say something, the more impatient I grow. Until I finally snap:

"You know, perhaps you could keep it as a memorabilia." There he goes again, giving me yet another of his confused looks. I explain: "Of the first time you allowed yourself to be defeated."

His grip of the shirt tightens. He might as well tear it apart if I go on insulting him. I don't really expect him to remain calm. Yet, I can't say I'm not surprised by his answer either:

"I need some coffee."

"You'll give me some answers first."

His hold of the collar relaxes and he exhales. I think I know what that means. Much as it might frustrate him, I ask the question:

"It's because I'm getting married, isn't it?"

But he doesn't stop giving me the silent treatment.

I persist: "Isn't it?"

"Fine," he replies at last. "It is."

"Aha," I nod. "And what would you have done if that had not been the case? Pushed me against a wall, hidden with me behind a bush, found an empty room?"

He doesn't reply. From the look in his eyes, though, I can tell what his answer would be: _'Yes'_.

Still, it is not enough to make me forgive him. He keeps looking at his shirt, but if only he would stare at me again...! I need to see the look in his eyes, to understand what he's feeling. They are very expressive, surprisingly enough. Rather enigmatic too, sometimes. But his emotions are not in turmoil currently. He has not regretted causing a scene. He is only still hurt and scared of losing me.

I know the feeling. All those hopes he kept having about us seeing each other again came crushing down because of a simple announcement that came at the worst possible of times. It was only natural that Ares would react the way he did.

But there is nothing I can do, except for going on being terrible towards him. He has raised the bar and now the stakes are too high for me to even dare risk it.

"How awfully childish of you," I let out.

Ares has had enough:

"Not to worry, Your Highness," he replies sarcastically. I hit him right where he hurt and now he will make me pay the price: "I would never dare unlock your iron belt of virtue! But still, don't you think it's unfair that your poor _husband-to-be_ will never find out about the _kind_ of woman he is going to make his _wife_?"

How dare he?! First he comes in here and embarrasses me, then he threatens me! He emphasizes just the right words for him to make his point clear. Can't he just... see?

Before I even realize it, I run straight to his bed. I don't touch him. I don't need to. Our faces are so close that we can only look straight into each other's eyes. His initial surprise is soon replaced with frustration. The lustful kind. With a single motion, he could just pull me down and land on top of me, making me his prey at long last. Again.

But I give him an icy stare. I feel like hitting him, punching him in the face with the same force as he hit that poor man. Right now, I don't like Ares. He keeps pushing me to my limits and I hate that. With all of my might.

"Look at me!" I mutter. "This is the face of the woman you've dared insult. Your future queen. You don't matter enough to upset me, you're not even worthy of insulting me! You take such great joy in the privileges granted to you that you forget about the truth. You are a member of this family only due to an act of charity. Our parents took pity in you because they were desperate to have a son. This is not the woman you have met in a nightclub that night. The mask is off. This is her truth. The whole, barren truth. I am not in your need, you are in mine. Next time you forget about this, I will make sure you remember it."

I stand up at once, not taking my eyes off of him. He looks more furious than before, like a volcano about to erupt. I make my way to the door. But his next words stop me on my tracks:

"I've made myself a promise," he says calmly, surprising as it is. "That I'd protect you."

I turn to face him:

"Protect. Me? You?"

"From the witches and the dragons."

The... what? I have never expected to hear such words from him. He is not the romantic. At all. I understand who he means by that, the loads of people hired to spy on me. Yet, I can't help smiling at what he has just said. Which he translates as me trying hard not to mock him. He is still in a hangover state, after all. But he was honest.

Somehow, it makes this whole situation even worse:

"There's plenty of those in here," he adds, trying to explain himself. "People watching our every move. They're everywhere. Our parents, the people that work for us, the government..."

"I can only see one," I reply. "Right in this very room."

I catch that puzzled look on Ares' face, just for a few seconds. Then I open the door and leave. Stepping into the bathroom, I burst into laughter, knowing all too well that he might hear me.

To tell you the truth, I don't know why I said that. Perhaps I am trying to confuse him. Or me. Maybe it was a bad idea to let him stay here in the first place. If only he would just... let go of me, if only he'd let me lose him! It'd be a lot easier for the two of us to break free from that damn curse we have trapped ourselves in.

 _The fool!_

* * *

 _Private quarters, Royal Palace_

The young man entered the Queen's office. For most days of the week, that part of the Palace was inaccessible to him and his colleagues. Her Majesty had ordered that no security officer was stationed inside the private quarters, so that the Royal Family could maintain a sense of normalcy there. But Saturday was rather special. Like him.

When he had joined the Royal Guard five years ago, he had graduated from the Police Academy of Athens only a few weeks prior. Up until then, working for the Royal Family was science fiction to him. Nevertheless, he had applied for the position because his father had persisted. A member of the Conservative Party since his days as a student, the old man had used his connections within the party (even calling a few MPs) to secure for his son the best position possible. To his view, political favours had been the only way to secure his son a highly respected and well-paying career, as well as to boost the popularity and the prestige of his party. Even though the Socialists had been in power back then and the Conservatives formed the Opposition, his wishes had been granted. The young man didn't like the fact that he had been hired due to political favours. Those kinds of biddings were frowned upon by most people. Still, almost everyone in Greece had established their careers in the public sector that way. The Hellenic Armed Forces were the exception to the rule, but even they defied the law sometimes. Yet, neither the father nor the son could predict that the young man would be trusted with a very special mission.

His assigned royal called him Doug because 'he looked like one'. He didn't mind it. She was his job. He ought to keep an eye on her at all times. His Majesty's orders. The King had requested that he gave him a full report on her whereabouts and any visitors she might 'entertain' in the Royal Suite. No one ought to find out that he had been giving him some extra money for that. Those were not part of his salary and under no circumstances could they be reported on his tax returns. Otherwise, he'd cause irreparable damage to his career and the Royal Family, whom he had been raised to admire and respect.

Even his own family didn't know about that kind of transaction. They were awfully proud of him, because he was guarding the Crown Princess. He wasn't allowed to reveal any further details about her, such as how many hours he spent with her every day or the draconian measures it took to protect her. The men in his family admired him intensely, sometimes even teasing him that he was the only man she hadn't bedded (yet). His female relatives, on the other hand, were bombing him with different kinds of questions: Was she as pretty up close as she looked in the pictures? / How tall was she? / Did she really have as many lovers as people said she had? The most daring ones would even ask him if he could give out any 'spicy' details about her personal life. But he kept his mouth shut.

Thanks to the Queen, however, he knew more about Aphrodite than his family could dare imagine. Three months after the King had asked him to spy on his daughter at all times, Her Majesty had requested a private audience with him which no one, not even her husband, ought to find out about. He had been asked to do as his predecessor had done: delve as deep into the Crown Princess's personal life as possible, without being noticed. His duties were simple. He had to give her solid evidence, by Aphrodite herself, on her shameful personal life. They would be delivered to the Queen in a yellow folder every Saturday by ten o'clock. If he dared ask any questions or reveal the truth, he would be fired immediately and without a reference. If he did as he was told, on the other hand, he would be transferred to Her Majesty's security team. Like his predecessor had done.

Every Saturday, the Queen would meet with members of the royal staff - no matter the branch to which they belonged - to point out drawbacks and perks, or simply to be updated on anything that might be important enough for her to know. She was the head of the household, after all, much as the King was the head of the country and his family. But, seeing that the Queen was awfully wary of gossip, all discussions that took place in her office had to remain a deeply buried secret. Even though the bodyguard knew that her spying on her step-daughter was widely discussed among the Palace staff, he didn't feel ashamed. It was part of his job and the Queen, too, was generous enough to slip another little white folder in his hands after each audience.

As usual, he had to wait for Her Majesty's private secretary to announce him. When he entered the room, he found her already standing up by her big ebony desk, her computer turned off and various open folders were gathered together to the side, one on top of the other. Right behind her, there was a bookcase that took over the entire wall, filled with some books on history and politics. It was decorated with various pictures she had taken with other queens and first ladies, as well as with personal gifts that they had given her. Everything in there was arranged so that everyone's eyes fell on the large family portrait, taken during their most recent official photo shoot in the gardens of the Royal Palace the previous spring. One of these days, they would be asked to take another one. They enclosed those family portraits along with a small thank-you letter to the correspondence they received from their supporters worldwide.

After he bowed, Hera pointed to a chair in front of her desk. Sitting on it, he watched as the Queen took her own place behind it. Putting on her reading glasses, she unlocked a drawer. While she was doing that, the young man took a glimpse on the pile of folders. He saw a list consisting of pictures of the dresses she had worn in the past. She was setting up her agenda for the spring of 2007, apparently.

Then he noticed the yellow folder Hera had pushed towards him.

"I would like to return this to you," she said, waiting for him to hold it.

He recognized it immediately. It contained the most recent pictures he had taken of the Crown Princess's personal diary. He didn't know what they were about. The Queen had hired him for the job because he could not speak French. But even if he did, he would never be able to decipher the Crown Princess's cursive and calligraphic handwriting. Try as he might.

True to form, he replied: "As you wish, Your Majesty."

He had learned early on in his career at the Royal Guard that it was not right to thank the members of the Royal Family unless they granted you a favour.

"I trust your shift for today has already started?" Hera asked, removing her glasses.

"Of course, Ma'am. I started at seven thirty in the morning and finish at eight in the evening. As always."

It was a rather exhausting schedule, to be sure, and it took quite a lot of sacrifices, but he was given a few days off from time to time. Besides, it was all worth the money.

"Good. Today, I want you to be extremely careful."

He shot her a confused look. Hera rushed to explain:

"A little bird told me that the Crown Princess may not be spending her day on her own."

Still, he couldn't see what was so special about it: "With all due respect, she has received men in the Royal Suite before."

The Queen brought her hands together and intertwined her fingers: "Yes, but this particular visitor is... how to say... special. Have you seen today's papers?"

"I'm afraid not, Ma'am. I don't have the time to read."

Hera was somewhat relieved. Her job had suddenly become so much easier!

"Oh, what a pity," she said nonetheless. "In short, Prince Ares may have spent the night there. He had a bit of a rough night yesterday, apparently, and did not want to be seen in such an unruly state. He is awfully aware of his reputation, as you know. But, he is also a young man. He, too, needs to enjoy himself occasionally."

She was telling him only half the son did not care at all about keeping up appearances. If he had done, he would have never gone to Aphrodite in the first place, let alone have caused a scene right outside her front door! She blamed his tantrums for it, yet she didn't know what had triggered him. Something serious must have been the matter for him to be so blinded by his own stubbornness to the point where he acted on instinct entirely. Much as Hera did not trust Aphrodite, she hoped that her step-daughter would use that brain in her head for once and would try her best to avoid his advances - dreadful as this phrase sounded. She might be able to send him back home too, perhaps, even if that was the only solution she could come up with. Whatever Aphrodite could think of, however, Hera knew she ought to do one thing: act quickly.

The bodyguard would like to believe Her Majesty. But his training and experience had taught him not to trust anyone. Not even his own Queen. As far as he was concerned, it was the King had sworn allegiance to. He was his real boss. He was simply doing the Queen a favour because he needed the money.

"As you wish," he replied.

"I need to be informed constantly. You do have the number to my private phone number, do you not?"

"Of course, Ma'am."

"Whatever you can find then, text me at once."

He hesitated to ask the next question: "If I may, on what exactly?"

Much as Hera would like to have scolded him, she held back. She should not let her own panicked state show. After all, he was only doing his job.

"First, you try to find anything that seems unusual. If the maids are coming and going constantly, for instance, or if the Crown Princess is ordering extra room service. She does have a few engagement she needs to attend today. Her ladies-in-waiting will be with her."

The last sentence was a sign. It meant that he had to take pictures of any new entires there might be in Aphrodite's private diary. As soon as he had printed them, he'd present them to Her Majesty in the same yellow folder. Initially, he had suggested using a USB stick for more secrecy, but Hera had turned down his suggestion without a second thought. She didn't trust technology and she had also stated that it could fall into the wrong hands if they were not careful enough. All folders on the other hand that were addressed to her and had the stamp of the Royal Guard were taken directly to her private secretary. They didn't even need to go through security control, unlike all the other documents that were addressed to the members of the Royal Family.

In order for the bodyguard to plan his next moves, he asked:

"Does His Highness have any engagements as well?"

He was expecting a simple 'yes' or 'no', but he had forgotten how Her Majesty did not like to be asked too many questions by her staffers:

"That doesn't matter, does it, we know he won't be that enthusiastic about them either way," she said. "In any case, be careful for him not to notice you. As you will hear, he has harmed two of your colleagues, surely he can eat you for breakfast as well. Just do not get caught."

The bodyguard nodded. He realized that there was more in the story than the Queen was willing to reveal. She had never advised him to be careful before.

"Yes, Ma'am. I understand."

"Good. Now, I believe we both have some business to attend to."

Hera stood up at once. He followed her lead. She stretched out her right hand and he kissed the back of it, before seeing her ringing a bell. The door opened and her private secretary walked in. The audience was over. Since it was against the protocol for him to turn his back in Her Majesty's presence, he walked to the door backwards. He bowed and her secretary - a woman - curtsied. As soon as Hera was left on her own, with the door to her office closed, she tried to focus on her job again. Still, she couldn't help hoping that she had simply misunderstood the dispute between Aphrodite and Ares and that there was nothing going on between them. How could it? They saw each other as siblings. Did they not?

Sitting back on her desk, she held a random piece of paper in her hands. It was a twenty-paged list with all the possible engagements that would take place between March and May next year. Choosing which ones she would attend was a long process, because she also had to take her daughters' own schedules into consideration. They would attend the engagements she would turn down. The spring of 2007 was heading close - just four months away. She didn't have to worry about the gala anymore. Everything was in place. All that was left to do about it was to unlock the doors to the Reception Hall and welcome the guests.

But still, she didn't have much time to worry about her children's shenanigans. If only they would understand that...!

She'd just have to wait. Perhaps Zeus was right. She might have been exaggerating.

Even though a voice in her kept telling her otherwise.

* * *

 _10:30 A.M._

 _Maximus Mansion, Official Residence of the Prime Minister_

Prime Minister Karolos Kallinikos was heading to the Dining Hall, ready for yet another of his weekly meetings with his Cabinet. During those, they would discuss the most important issues and figure out what the PM would share with the King during their audiences every Wednesday. Early in his administration, some of his ministers had complained about the meetings taking place every Saturday morning, but he had been adamant to keep it that way. His late uncle (a PM during the 1950s and the founder of the Conservative Party) had followed the same routine and, frankly, he could not see how it could not work in 2006 as well. Besides, it gave him plenty of time to prepare for his private audiences with the King.

Walking along the endless corridors with the white walls, all the while listening to the sound of his shoes as they hit the black-and-white marble floor, he reminded himself how that mansion felt like home to him. Making it his residence had been a dream come true for him, as the reward for his lifelong preparation for the office of Prime Minister. A member of the second most powerful political dynasty of Greece, his family's reputation was obscured only by their Socialist counterparts, the Papadakis family, who took great pride in calling themselves 'The Kennedys of Greece'. Alexis Papadakis, the leader of the current Socialist Opposition kept reminding everyone, both MPs and voters, that his father and his grandfather were legendary political figures in their own right.

Guess he didn't know as much about Maximus Mansion as the PM did, however. The latter had come to know this lavish building, constructed in 1912, as part of his family's history, which he ought to honour by continuing it. He had not known it as the residence of the prime minister, however. While he was growing up in the 1960s, it was used as the official guest house for the foreign leaders during state visits. It was one of the Mansion's three different careers: first a private residence from 1912 to 1954, then a guesthouse for the foreign dignitaries from 1954 to 1982, and the official residence of the prime minister. No one could doubt that the last one was the most rightful one for such an extravagant building.

Nevertheless, it maintained the name of its first ever owner, the man who had also constructed it, as a homage to him.

And how convenient it was that it was located right next to the Royal Palace!

Entering the Dining Hall, he saw all eighteen of his ministers sitting around the big, old table. Perhaps it was as old as the mansion itself, but no one could confirm as much.

As soon as the PM took his place by the top of the table, he said:

"Gentlemen! And a few ladies. Shall we begin?"

There were only two women in his Cabinet. But, he had appointed them to two very important ministries: Foreign Affairs and Education and Religions. Appointing the former - and first female - Mayor of Athens as the first ever woman Minister of Foreign Affairs in the history of his country earned him more criticism than praise, however. She, too, had been born into a political dynasty and her own father had served as PM in the early 1990s.

Nevertheless, considering his party's policies and the constant underestimating of female politicians, it was a ground-breaking decision.

All of his ministers sat down. For the next few moments, the only sounds heard were those of folders opening, papers being put to place, and pens clicking. The PM decided not to waste another second:

"So. First on the agenda is the purchase of the Hellenic Telecommunications Organisation by Deutsche Telekommunikation A.G.. The offer was made in 1993 and the process is to be completed in 2009. His Majesty has been outspoken on his support for it and we do have his signature on paper. Now, as you know, his interference caused a major public outcry. The people took to the streets, there were serious damages done to stores during the protests, cars were burned too... They demand an abdication and, considering the war that the Opposition have began against us, we need to figure out a way to make it happen without causing an early general election."

The Minister of Interior, a man in his early fifties, interrupted: "As far as I'm concerned, Sir, an abdication is what the Opposition want. If we give them that, it does not secure us the win at the following elections. If the Socialists ally with the Communist Party, they have brought the entire left against us. The Communists are, after all, the third most powerful party in Parliament. So, I vote that we keep the King in his position and simply try to improve his image."

The Finance Minister - who was around the same age - believed he ought to intervene. Turning to the Minister of Interior, he said: "But this is exactly what it is about. We are the monarchists. Our aim is to secure the institution, not the individual. The Socialists were on our side as well, because Greece is a constitutional monarchy. The King adapted the monarchy to their needs and he shrunk his role into a strictly ceremonial one. The only political powers that he has are that he can permit the dissolution of the Parliament, inaugurate new governments, meet with the PM on a weekly basis, and sign laws into action. He cannot have political interference. Heck, he doesn't even have the right to vote!"

The Minister of Interior added: "Still, the entire Parliament needs to vote for the abdication process to begin. This is declared in the law voted in 1992, which abolishes the law of 1981, which stated that the heir to the throne can be elected via referendum once all of the current monarch's sons have come of age."

"I know that!" the Finance Minister replied. "I'm saying that, if we want to save the monarchy, making the Crown Princess the new queen would do more good to the country than improving the King's image. I believe she is ready. Her world tour has been a major success. So was her tour of Greece, only a few days after her return. Her popularity has increased to the point where the citizens seem willing to overlook their misogyny because they dislike a political King more than a young woman who is still learning the ropes."

It was the right time for the Minister of Foreign Affairs to join the conversation:

"I agree. She is a great listener and she does as she is told. Sure, we allow her to add a few personal remarks to her speeches and interviews, but, nevertheless, she is a valuable diplomatic asset. She has followed our instructions, much as she has opposed our political views, and if we're lucky enough, she will go on doing so once she is queen."

The Minister of Interior addressed her: "Are you suggesting that we get on with the abdication process?"

"I don't see why not,"she replied. "It would be a great diplomatic asset for the country. Their Majesties may still be young enough to do the work, but the Greeks need a breath of fresh air. So far, the Crown Princess is the most famous member of the royal family, both on home ground and abroad. Following her tour, we have made several new diplomatic allies that have strengthened our country's prestige worldwide. The more foreign allies we have, the easier it will be for us to solve issues such as the Turkish threats in the Aegean, their illegal occupation of the north part of Cyprus and the naming dispute with FYROM over the region of Macedonia."

The PM kept listening to all of their different opinions carefully. But he felt that he, too, had to share his own views on it:

"We cannot inaugurate her as the new queen immediately. There are still things that need to be done. His Majesty had said that he would abdicate once the Crown Princess had given the country an heir and a spare. Given the choice for her husband, I am afraid we will have to convince him to change his mind about that. If we are to push for abdication, we need to act quickly. The Socialists are gaining ground in the opinion polls and the other parties are finding faults on our plans for the reforms on education and finance."

The Minister of Foreign Affairs still had to interfere: "But if we, our party, do not make her queen, the Socialists will. They favoured Princess Athena for the throne until she left for England. Her approval ratings have suffered, too, because of her decision. But she is very respected, in a way that Princess Aphrodite will never be."

"It's true, Princess Athena is the Crown Princess's greatest antagonist in popularity," the PM furthered. "Princess Aphrodite is, if I may, a celebrity. The likes of her have almost brought down the monarchies in their own respective countries. But, the Greeks would rather have a celebrity as their unelected head of state than someone with actual political opinions. Princess Athena is an outspoken liberal. She has always sided with the left and she has proven so with words _and_ with actions. King Zeus survived for so long exactly because he has done very little. He does have a rather troublesome personal life, but the Queen has always taken care of that. Us interfering in their marital business could be translating as an effort to invade their privacy. It would do more harm to our reputation than good. "

The Finance Minister began to talk: "The Greeks seem to have a different opinion. They want to know what if the rumours about the King are true. They may hate the prospect of having a woman as their head of state, but they hate scandalous political figures more. His Majesty is a political figure as well. He knows state secrets. The kind of which the voters had better never find out about. We don't know what he thinks of them, but he won't reveal them."

Still, the Interior Minister stroke again: "The Crown Princess, on the other hand..."

"Excuse me, if I may," the Minister of Foreign Affairs interrupted. "Yes, she has made some obnoxious remarks about us and yes, she has offended the Prime Minister. But, if you are watching the news, you would know that the Greeks love hating us. As long as they keep voting for us, however, we care very little about their opinions on each and every single one of us."

"Which is exactly why she is unsuitable for the throne. Besides, she's not married."

The PM replied to the Interior Minister instead: "The Constitution doesn't state anywhere that she has to be married to ascend the throne. It simply says that, as long as she has had her investiture ceremony, she is the heir apparent to the throne."

"Still, she does have a rather obnoxious personal life," the Interior Minister added. "And her intended is not... the best of men. I don't know why the King has chosen someone like him for her husband. Surely, there were plenty of wealthy and good-looking men out there for her?"

The Finance Minister was the only one that could reply: "He is the only one that can provide him the money he needs. I cannot reveal more, I am afraid. Only the finance ministers know the whole story of the Royal Family's finances. And the prime ministers, of course."

The PM added: "Let us just say, he has been through some rough times with his investments. He has made a grave mistake in investing in the public companies more than he had in the private ones. There are plenty of Greek companies abroad that need capital. When I told him that, he said that he'd like to invest those Greek private companies based abroad, but he is worried about the outcry he will receive from the public. That's why he was so eager to complete the purchase of the Hellenic Telecommunications Association. He thought that being openly involved in the matter would speed up the process. Which, I am sure, the German government was extremely thankful for."

The Finance Minister furthered: "They believe that giving money to the head of the Greek state, via investments, could allow them to interfere in the country's political life. The King got angry when he found out, and he is no longer involved with the Association. That was his way to shut the door to them and keep them from coming in. We, as a nation, have some terrible experiences with the Germans, after all."

The Minister of Foreign Affairs asked: "Does the Queen know about her husband's business activities?"

"I highly doubt so," the PM replied. " Given her... personality, I would understand why her husband would want to keep her out of it."

"But wouldn't the Crown Princess be given access to it as soon as she becomes queen?" she asked.

"The investments concern the King's personal finances. She has the generous allowance that the businesses of her maternal grandparents and her step-father give her. Each have set a common trust fund for her. We could cut down her royal appanage too, and she wouldn't even notice."

The Minister of Foreign Affairs chose to defend the Crown Princess: "This is impossible. She has revealed that she gives it to the charities she supports. WWF Greece, for instance, or The Smile of the Child. It has only increased her approval ratings tenfold since."

It was the time for the Finance Minister to speak again: "I will be sharing some confidential information now, but Hephaestus' family are associated with Deutsche Telekommunikation αnd some other businesses founded or run by Greeks abroad. Germany, France, Switzerland, Great Britain, the U.S... It's a far more impressive network compared to the one associated with the Crown Princess's maternal family."

"But that's only investments," the Minister of Foreign Affairs said. "Dione's family actually own and run the two businesses they are famous for. And their company is a great advertisement for Greek maritime. The Minister of Finance is more familiar with it. Maritime does fall under the capacity of his ministry, after all."

The PM was growing impatient. They had dedicated much more time on the subject than he had expected and there were plenty of other subjects to discuss within two hours. So, he had to hurry things up:

"So, what do you suggest we do? I am asking the three people that have already spoken. I guess it is not a matter interesting enough for the rest of you just yet. Nevertheless. The few people involved. What do they suggest we do?"

The Finance Minister was the first to reply: "I say, we approve of the marriage of the Crown Princess. A wealthier royal family would mean more prestige for the country."

The Minister of Foreign Affairs agreed: "Though I still vote we begin the abdication process, I suggest we try to improve the image of the King for now. To give the Crown Princess more time to prepare and to avoid the King's wrath. I believe the gala for the Queen's birthday would be a great opportunity for it. Her approval ratings have also suffered since that so-called 'illness'."

"Trying to improve the image of the King would be easier," the PM said. "It's the holiday season, after all, the new year is just around the corner. We are left with two years until the next general election. Plenty of time to change the voters' opinion about us. We might have to send Their Majesties to a few foreign trips as well. Though, after we have given our foreign allies the beauty that is Princess Aphrodite, it would be rather hard to have them accept the King and the Queen, good-looking as they also are."

The Minister of Foreign Affairs disagreed: "I believe the Crown Princess should remain in Greece for the time being. To work for her own country on home ground."

The Minister of Interior had remained quiet a little too long: "But the Opposition might oppose the match. All parties in Parliament need to give their vote of approval for their engagement to be announced."

The PM was the one brave enough to face him: "We are the majority in Parliament. The Opposition might be excited that Princess Aphrodite has chosen someone with a few handicaps as her husband instead of a bodybuilder of some kind. They always work hard for those people when they are in power. Then we come back and reverse everything they created to suit our own needs, then they do the same thing when they rise back to power. It's a circle and that's how it will remain. Now, shall we move on? Next on. Education! Now, that is something that we need to protect from the Socialists! How is that getting along?"

They all changed the subject. The PM was making notes down on paper. Yes, they approved of the Crown Princess's marriage and no, they would not start with the abdication process just yet. He would not reveal the latter to the King, of course. But the Crown Princess had to be married before ascending the throne. Having had a child too while still a Crown Princess would also be great. If his calculations were right and if everything ran smoothly, Aphrodite would become Queen by 2016, at the age of thirty-six. She would not be as young as her father and her grandfather were when they ascended the throne, but she would certainly be old enough to have had at least two children by then. The much-needed heir and a spare.

So far, the power had been switching between the Socialists and the Conservatives and none of them were willing to abolish the monarchy. It would take another political party, which would come to power by surprise, to take them down. Still, they would need the approval of the rest of the Parliament, because abolishing the Monarchy would go against the Constitution.

But that scenario was as possible as the earth was flat.

* * *

 _11:00 A.M._

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

Ares and I have been avoiding each other as much as possible. It makes the whole situation all the more unbearable, actually. I do have some engagements to attend today, but, bad enough for me, they all take place in the afternoon. Normally, I love Saturdays because of it, but today I'm making an exception. Why do normal people have to wake up so late in the weekends?

Why it is such a big deal, you may ask. It's quite simple, really. We need to be seen to be believed. For that, we need actual crowds to come, see us, and adore us. Big or small, it doesn't matter. As long as they're awake enough to wave flags, shout our names, and don't look like they're desperate for a cup of coffee. It wouldn't look good in the pictures, would it?

Until then - or at least until Ares decides to leave me alone at last - I will keep myself preoccupied somehow. I have already tried pretty much everything I could do in here. Reading the newspapers I hadn't read during "breakfast" seemed to be doing the trick, until I discovered the tabloid which featured him all over its cover. I read the article out of curiosity. Some friendly neighbour of mine - if I can call him thus - had taken it, posted it immediately on the Internet, in some forum about royalty, and that's where they took it from. Good for them, they don't have the time nor the ability to do some decent reporting, and so they guessed that he had gone to see just a woman - any random woman. The hotel number and the sign which reads 'Royal Suite' had been obscured, perhaps so that they could not get in trouble with the hotel administration.

Marvelous...

I gave up on reading soon after and tried to play some music instead. The antique piano in the living room still works, believe it or not. I am not a professional by a far mile, but I have been training long enough to be considered good enough.

Just not today, apparently.

Luckily for me, Beethoven was deaf. Otherwise, he'd be rolling in his grave if he could listen to me murdering _Für Elise_ in the same way I had done when I was eight. But it's not my fault. I just can't focus. Even though I have played this piece a thousand times in the past, and without the sheet, my hands won't coordinate with my brain today.

I could have switched to Debussy's _Clair de Lune_ (another tune I've played more times than I can count), but I figured I'd let a great piece survive my disastrous force for a change.

Soon enough I realized that the only way to get out of this void was to go straight into the source of trouble. Me. It was me who was upset over this whole thing, me who couldn't concentrate, me who had to get a certain tall and handsome Prince Charming out of her mind.

The only refuge I can find in this place is my private diary. The one in which I wrote about the abortion. After that audience with Hera, I haven't felt safe enough to write any new entries, but it still feels like my safe haven. Besides, it's highly impossible that that had been her source. I wouldn't be surprised if a member of my staff somehow found out and told her. The walls have ears wherever I go, after all. Built this way by Peacock herself, too, maybe.

And Cinderella and Snow white thought their stepmothers were wicked...

I go to my bedroom. Opening the bottom drawer, I get out all the white pieces of clothing that cover it, and bring the black notebook back to light. I sit on the desk nearby and start writing. Blanche is sitting by my chair, happy for the company.

I'm not going to use any names. I never do. Once again, he'll be introduced as a P.I. - _Parfait Inconnu_. Meaning 'perfect stranger'. That's the nickname I give to every man mentioned in there. May whatever Private Investigator who gets their filthy hands on it spend hours figuring out names and addresses later on.

My friendly maid will bring my mint martini and the platter of French cheeses soon. Until then, I just... write.

I don't really care about creating an impressive novel when I write. I mostly care about getting the thoughts out of my head, so that they can stop torturing me as much as they have already done. That's why they don't follow a particular order. They're never structured. They are as chaotic as my thoughts and feelings. Perhaps later I will break the rule of never reading my entries over again and I will examine them closely. After midnight, preferably, when everyone is asleep. As long as I can find a way out of this awful mess I'm in, to figure out once and for all what I feel towards Ares and how I should treat him.

All the while, he, the cause of all this mess, is right across the room, still in the private gym.

How awfully discreet of him...

Eventually, he does make his presence know. I recognize him from his heavy steps and him knocking on the door. Both those sounds are a rare occurrence in here. My bodyguards aren't allowed in the suite and my maids just fly into the room whenever the time comes for me to need them. That's why I can't lock any doors in here. They have all the keys.

I close the notebook. I haven't written down all the things I wanted to put down on paper, but it doesn't matter really. The three minutes I've spent writing have made me calm enough to face him.

Setting it aside, I allow him in. He is dressed in one of the new suits my maid bought for him. The charcoal grey one with the navy blue shirt. It brings out his eyes... He remains standing by the door, knowing all too well that my bedroom is forbidden soil for him. Blanche barks when she notices him and I touch her head with my fingers, motioning for her to keep quiet. Without further ado, I turn to look at him.

"I am leaving," he says. "I am going back to the Royal Palace."

"Good," I reply.

He looks rather concerned.

"I won't tell anyone about what happened," he adds.

"I never thought you would."

He nods. Just as he is about to leave, my friendly maid enters from another door, carrying the tray with my drink and snack (there's three entrances in here, all connecting the bedroom to different parts of the suite). She does notice Ares, too, and she curtsies to him after she has done the same for me too, first. We don't say anything. Ares waits for her to make her way to the door, but before she can leave the room entirely, he says:

"I shall be going, then."

My maid opens the door again rushing back into the room:

"Your Highness, if I may, I would advise against it."

Ares and I look at each other, surprised. Noticing it, she rushes to explain:

"There are paparazzi outside, Miss, Sir. It's not too many, just two or three, but they are hiding in all the places imaginable. Behind other people's cars, between trash cans..." Then, rather hesitantly, she wipes her hands with her apron: "They want to get a glimpse of His Highness exiting the hotel." Turning to Ares, she adds: "I saw a couple of them taking pictures of your Harley when I went to shop, Sir. They recognized the royal number plates. I've asked the concierge to take them away, but he called me a while ago and he said that, no matter what the hotel guards do, they're always coming back."

Perfect. Just perfect... I should have seen this coming. Little wonder Ares is pissed. So am I, but I don't let it show. Yet, the way he holds his body seems to scare the poor girl:

"I-I just don't think it would be a good idea for you to leave now, Sir," she mumbles.

But Ares has yet to see how that is an issue:

"It's not the first time I have to face them," he says. "I've run away from those mosquitoes before."

Turning to my maid, I ask her to leave us alone and to take Blanche with her. I don't want my dog to bark again. My maid does as she is told, and she closes the door behind her.

This whole process only grows Ares more impatient.

"Now what?"

"You don't understand," I tell him. "You are in the cover of a tabloid. Someone saw you yesterday and took your picture."

Picking it from the pile of newspapers on my desk, I hand it to him. He opens it and takes a very good look at it. I expect him to get angry, to start shouting, swearing, and tear it apart. Instead, he does none of that.

For some reason, I find him more terrifying this way. Like the calm before the storm.

"I see," he utters. "But I can't be kept hostage here forever, can I?"

"Of course not!" I let out. "Perhaps you could just wait until midnight. They will grow bored at some point. Surely, they have other things to do than wait for you to show up."

"Do you really believe that?"

I shake my head and look down: "But I can't let you go out there either."

I don't know why I said that. The words just slipped out of my mouth. I stare into his eyes. He smiles, but hides fast enough. I can feel that he wants to tell me something, but I am faster:

"Why did you come here last night?"

The time has finally come for the masks to fall down. Exciting as the game was at first, I have grown tired of it. We can't go on fooling ourselves forever. The sooner we are done with it, the better.

He looks puzzled: "Pardon?"

"You could have come back to the Palace. Father and Hera must be worried sick. Why not spare us all the trouble?"

He lets out a little laugh. Then he walks closer to me. My heart is beating wildly. I fear his next moves. What if he gets too close? I am still sitting on the chair. There'll be no escaping him. What if neither of us can control ourselves then?

This is what he came for in the first place. Isn't it?

But he doesn't lean too close to me. On the contrary, he doesn't even look at me. He rubs his chin and starts pacing up and down, leaving me to wonder. I can't quite figure out if he looks more concerned than regretful. But he definitely looks rather... ashamed? That's new...

"Answer me."

"Fine," he replies. He scoffs. Then he fixes his collar and clears his throat. At long last, he is ready to explain: "I was drunk. I wasn't thinking straight. I-"

 _'I can't stop thinking of you.' Say it._

"I don't know what had gotten into me," he mutters instead.

I nod. Of course I'm disappointed! If only he'd let his guard down for once! I'm not asking for a love confession. I highly doubt I'll ever get one from him, actually. To be fair, after all he has done, I don't need it either. It's just... I want him to be honest with himself for once. For him to admit his mistakes and his weaknesses.

Oh. I forgot. He is too self-centered for that.

He looks like he has nothing else to say. Or so he thinks:

"Tell me about her."

I am not going to like it, and I'm still not interested in the slightest to find out anything about her. I just have to figure out what prompted him to sleep with her. This is the only way I can figure out if his feelings for me are indeed as strong as he has led me to believe.

He holds back:

"I- I met her in a nightclub."

This is getting ridiculous. As if there are too many places he could have met her at night...

"Something I don't know, preferably."

He scoffs again. He clenches his fists and teeth, yet his shoulders are still relaxed. I know that he hates having to explain himself, but he doesn't have a choice. Not anymore. He has been treating as if I were his in the first place, as far as I'm concerned.

"Nothing happened between us," he reveals.

Still, I don't believe him.

"How can I trust you are telling the truth?"

He grows angry:

"Because I am!"

"Oh, please!" I say standing up. "Your shirt still tells a different story! Her perfume, her lipstick... A few buttons are missing too!"

"It's not what you think it is!"

"Oh, I think I know exactly-!"

"Nothing happened because I couldn't do anything!"

I stand still. I keep looking at him. He has the same look on his face as he did last night. Embarrassment, failure... Self pity... All there.

So he did... It could not... How is that possible?

"You mean..."

"Yes," he says, holding on to the desk and leaning forward. "I was so mad that you were getting married that I went out to a nightclub, drunk, danced, and went to her home. But I couldn't stop thinking about you, so I upped and left. That's the whole story. Are you happy now?"

He... what?

"Did you really dance for me?"

He nods. I feel like my heart will burst with excitement. I want to smile, but I am trying to hide it. I wouldn't want him to mistake it for yet another mockery.

He danced for me!

He actually forgot all about form, propriety, and people watching him. He walked up on stage and let his feelings out! Before all those people! I have been to those nightclubs plenty of times to understand the music that prompted him to express himself that way. Anger, shame, lovesickness, selfishness... It all fit perfectly.

I smile widely. I can't keep it in any longer. Before I realize it, I let out a small laugh, but bring my hands to my lips as soon as I do so. He did it! He showed his feelings for me in public! I wasn't there, but the look in his eyes leaves no doubt about it.

That was his love confession towards me!

Now that I know where his heart lies, I need to reassure myself about the same thing. Sometimes, analyzing your feelings is not enough. Love is instinctive; it grows on the spur of a moment. Sometimes, all the prophecies, doubts, and sleepless nights in the world are not enough to prove it. The reason for all this turmoil is standing right there, in front of me. I can touch him if I want, without fearing that he would flinch too suddenly.

I bring my hand to his shoulder, waiting for him to walk away.

He doesn't. On the contrary, he welcomes it. He smiles, too. We have both been waiting for it long enough. Now, he would get his reward. But no, not at once. Just a small taste.

We look into each other's eyes. He's smiling! He's as eager for my next move as I am afraid of making it. What if the door opens suddenly?

I have to act quickly.

"Since you've proven you can dance," I say, not taking my eyes off him. "I think you should show me exactly what you can do."

I had told him the same thing three months ago. In London. It's what left what little courtesy we had left fall to the floor.

He runs his fingers over my cheek. He remembers!

Back then, we hadn't said anything else. Now, it's different.

Taking his hands in mine, I ask:

"Do you know how to tango?"

His raises his eyebrows. But he still remains silent. I further:

"You just close your eyes." I bring my hands to his face and close his eyelids with my fingers. "Bring your body close to mine." I close the distance between us and bring my left leg around his waist. He puts his arms around me and I bring my lips close to his ear: "And let go."

He opens his eyes. They meet mine. He doesn't waste any time. Taking my face in his hands, he takes a good, long look a me.

Then our lips crush.

I don't push back. Instead, I bring both of my legs around his waist and he pulls me up, holding me in his muscular arms. His touch is as rough as I remember it. I can feel his small facial hair itching my hands, but I don't care. His lips are dry and rough, but they still taste as bittersweet as they did the last time.

We're oddly peaceful. Like time has frozen. We don't move. There is no moaning, groping, or murmuring going on. As if none of us wants to destroy the moment.

Suddenly, everything becomes clear.

He is my beautiful curse.

But he is trying to break the spell. He brings his tongue over my lips, trying to set them apart. I'm not letting him. I hold them firmly closed.

I'm feeling rather playful today.

My resistance only increases his urge to invade my mouth. Still, I persist. If he wants it so badly, he'll have to beg for it.

After all, he's yet to take that bow.

I give him just a few seconds. Three... two... one...

Then I bite his bottom lip.

I step back, breaking the kiss.

He looks at me, stunned, trying to take it all in. I can see my teeth marks under his bottom lip. They'll disappear in a while. I'm trying to catch my breath. My heart feels like it would fly if it could. I just need to get out of the room. I need to stop looking at him, I-

I rush into the study. Closing the door behind me, I land on an armchair and bring my face to my hands.

There is no doubt about it now.

The little fun we've had has turned into the feeling I have been trying to hide from. I have feared the day I'd realize it for as long as we've been apart, so I kept postponing it as much as I could, hoping that it would go away that way. But it has followed me around since the morning I woke up in his arms. This is why I was the first to leave that cheap hotel room. The air in there had become suffocating, but not because of the old building.

What just happened between us feels like the absolution we have been anticipating since that night. What had happened in London had felt completely right, the most honest of truths, a mesmerizing labyrinth none of us wanted to get out of.

But now, there is no need to go on fooling ourselves. No matter what, we are still two wrongs that will never make it right. Not here, not in this country.

If we don't resist our desires, our old game of hide and seek will turn into that of cat and mouse. Us against the world.

Maybe it's too late, I don't know. I don't think I can think straight anymore.

The rocky path I'm walking on is on fire. Burning faster than I had hoped.

Much faster, in fact...


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: First of all, I would like to apologize** ** **to the Ancient Greeks for "murdering" their mythology so shamelessly in this chapter and to my readers for my rather terrible dialogue. In my defense, I tried my best. But I'm currently reading _The Godfather_ and rewatching _Gossip Girl_ and I think I might have made Zeus the Don Corleone and Hera the Blair Waldorf kind... Whoops... I was also listening to _Nobody's Side_ from _Chess_ on repeat while writing Aphrodite's POVs. I know that the song serves an entirely different purpose in the musical, but the first and the final scenes basically wrote themselves in one sitting, so it still fits I guess :P  
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 ** **The charity mentioned here is fictional, but based on a few actual ones. I just took artistic license to serve the story better.  
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* * *

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB  
_

This joke is getting so ridiculous that I can't even smile anymore.

I want him out. Of that I am sure. Out of my room, out of the hotel, out of this town, out of my life, the universe, hell, whatever is most convenient to him. As long as he stops torturing me with his domineering presence. It's hard enough when I need to clear my head and he is literally a room away. I have regretted letting him in. He has turned into an invader that tries to conquer me with the simplest of gestures. Hoping, perhaps, that this will force me to see things from his perspective.

Yes, I did kiss him. I don't regret it. Neither does he. I can still taste his lips and feel the sound of his heartbeat. How eagerly he had looked forward to it, how amazing it felt when he finally took what he had wanted all along…! But when I walked back into the room from my study to make amends with him after I had stepped back, the glare he shot at me might as well have frozen me to death if I had let it. He hated me at this moment, the way he had never despised another woman before.

That is his truth. Mine is different. Were we living in a different time and age, I would not even be thinking twice. We would have been no strangers to the game. History is filled with incest concerning the people of our kind. Marriages made to secure dynasties, countries, for the sake of diplomacy... The boldest ones got involved in "scandalous" amorous romps, strong enough to destroy everything they held most dear because of the one force no one can control, let alone understand.

I am afraid that I, too, fell into the age-old trap. I have always taken great pride in following my heart and thus having my feelings in order. No questions or doubts involved. I would simply follow my instinct and enjoy the ride. Extreme as it might sound, I thought that I was unbeatable in the matters of love. That, despite being in my twenties, I was far more experienced than other women - or men - my age. All of my previous relationships had been a disappointment. After the initial excitement wore off, they would see what the veil hid. Either they were too intimidated by my title, lifestyle, and responsibility that they left on their own accord, or I was the one that left them in cold water. That simplicity sounds like a luxury that I can no longer afford.

No matter what they have taught me, Ares continues to confuse me. He means danger, thrill, the most incredible adventure I have yet to embark on. That smile of his, the feeling of his lips, the thought that this gorgeous sight of a man is at my beck and call are enough to send shivers down my spine and make me eager to claim him again, over and over, like we had done in London. I could easily lure us both into forgetting all about our real identity again and seduce him in the darkness if I wanted to. The circumstances are not that different. We are in a hotel room, hiding from everyone. Except that now, we have a real bed in our disposition.

Yet the longer I hide Ares here, the more I fear I will eventually give in. I am being ridiculous, keeping him hostage because of some vultures with cameras...!

Thalia, one of my ladies-in-waiting, was right. They're not that dangerous. If her words are anything to go by, they cannot even suspect that it is me he went to see! The people in the street guess it was some Hollywood actress or supermodel of some kind. The waiters at a nearby cafeteria quiz them for that "mysterious" woman's name. I would not be surprised to know that half the Greek community in Australia does so, as well. Ares gave them what they wanted. A nice distraction.

And now, we are both trapped in a labyrinth, desperately looking for a way out. At least I am. I don't think he's all that eager to get out of there.

My reflection in the mirror scares me. I changed into a completely different outfit, complete with hair and make-up... But as much concealer as I could apply, the exhaustion and the lack of sleep are still apparent. There is nothing foundation can do about it. Everyone, from the crowds to the cameras, will understand something is wrong with me. I look concerned. Worried. Angry, confused, stressed... Indecisive...

We will never make it work. I don't know if I can risk it all by taking him as a lover. Were he some other man, I would not even be debating it. I'd be acting on the spur of the moment. No excuses or complaints. But he is not like the others.

Damn you, Ares! You and everything about you that I can't resist!

He's dragging me into the deep with him. Unless I bring us both back to the surface, we will both drown. He can't swim in such deep waters. Never could. I know I can rescue both of us, but he is too stubborn to even let me try.

I can't say something like that to his face, of course. I'd have to face his stubbornness and he'd push me against the wall (literally and metaphorically), wishing to invade me with all of his force, as if I am a castle under siege. His way of protecting the Princess from… what was that metaphor he used? The witches and the dragons…

How funny!

Yet how true…

I hit the dressing table as forcefully as I can. Some lipstick cases and small perfume bottles make a thumping sound as they fall. Hera's birthday gala is only five days away. Ares will surely try to meet Hephaestus then. Just to get a glimpse at him, see who the great antagonist is... Perhaps Father will introduce them to each other on the premise that they will soon be a family. Brothers-in-law of some kind. The guests might suspect something. Each single one of them carries their own dirty secrets after all. Just a look at you and they can read you like an open book. I will be the easiest to uncover. I was never good at hiding my feelings...

If Mother were here, she would tell me that I am a big girl now. That the solution to every problem is right under our noses. We just need to change our perspective to see it. Easier said than done, I'm afraid...

Ares will leave when no one can see him. At midnight, perhaps, when the streets are empty. I trust him, he won't reveal anything, especially to Hera. The question is, how will I manage to push him out of the door without enraging him further?

We don't need another broken nose in here.

Opening the drawer, I pull out my red flip mobile phone. The personal one. I type a text to Lydia: _Arrange for me to visit Kostas. Day after surgery. Apology on HRH's behalf._

Kostas is what the bodyguard is called. What I am doing goes against the rulebook. We should not grow too fond of our security details. They could literally die for us. But kindness is the greatest sign of respect and nothing will change will mind about it. HRH stands for 'His Royal Highness'. She'll understand. She reads all the newspapers too.

I press 'send' just before the door opens. Thalia walks in, elegantly dressed as always. I can see her through the mirror.

"The car is ready. Princess Hebe is in there and waiting for you."

"Thank you."

I stand up at once. I don't need to waste any more time. I have other things to do than overthinking.

My phone beeps. It's Lydia: _OK_. That's it. One problem out of the door.

Please, if anyone out there has a heart, do help me push this big guy hiding in my living room out of the door sooner rather than later.

Before I grow any weaker at the knees.

* * *

 _King's Office, Royal Palace_

The reading glasses landed on the pile of papers. Zeus leaned back on his chair in frustration and brought his face in his hands. Those headaches had been getting worse lately. He feared that the longer it took for the NIS to solve the so-called mystery with the stolen items, the more frequent his migraines would become. Hera had told him so herself. He was wearing himself out.

But those were matters that had to be taken care of. Besides, his working day always began with him reading the NIS reports, before moving on to the government papers and his mail. It had followed that routine since his enthronement. He didn't care whether they were about bank robberies or drug dealings. He had to read everything, as part of his preparation for his weekly meetings with the PM. He wouldn't want a career politician to outsmart him.

Although, sometimes, even kings had to admit defeat.

He looked right across his desk. Hera was sitting on an armchair at the small sitting area by the door, reading tabloid about Ares. Again! He couldn't understand that woman sometimes. First she raised all that hell to discover the thief inside the Palace, then she acted as if Ares sleeping at Aphrodite's was the worst of their problems!

"The NIS are expanding their research."

Hera raised her eyes from the newspaper. She kept rereading the article, trying to find anything in there that proved Ares' guilt. Halfway through reading, she had reached the conclusion that she ought to keep a close eye on them during the gala. The Palace would be filled with people. It would offer Ares and Aphrodite the perfect distraction. They would look for an empty and darkened room, surely. She had to find a way to stop them before it was too late. She would not have them embarrass the whole of their family on plain sight!

As soon as Zeus made sure he had his wife's full attention, he furthered: "They still suspect that footman. But they will also question Aphrodite's friends. The 'usual suspects', as she calls them. To see if they are in any way involved with a network that sells antiquities to the black market. An excellent way of thinking, if you ask me."

Hera was confused. She believed that getting Aphrodite's so-called 'friends' out of the picture what was Zeus had wanted from the very beginning: "But this is marvelous news, isn't it?"

"I was just hoping we'd be done with it by that point," Zeus explained. "Silly of me, I know. But our guests are arriving to Athens any day now and I would not like the robbery to overshadow your big day."

Hera folded the newspaper and placed it on the coffee table. Without hesitation, she asked: "May I speak plainly?"

"Please."

Without further ado, she walked to the desk. Sitting right across her husband would make it easier for them to discuss such matters. The door being sound-proved did not make her feel any more comfortable.

"Listen to what Eris said," Hera said with a low voice. "I am certain that she saw something the investigators cannot."

But Zeus could not be fooled. He knew his wife a little too well. "I can't dismiss Ganymede without solid proof!"

"What better witness than our own daughter?"

"Exactly!"

Hera was taken aback. Could Zeus be suspecting something? Did he understand that it was all Eris and Hera's doing? That stupid, stupid girl! Hera ought to have been more careful before trusting Eris. But she would trouble herself about her daughter's shortcomings now. She had to make her husband change his plans. The sooner she did it, the better.

Zeus gave her the opportunity she was looking for when he touched his forehead again. Noticing his distress, Hera stood up from her seat and walked behind the desk. Approaching his chair, she stood behind him and put her arms around his neck, embracing him from behind. He welcomed the gesture by caressing her hands.

"You're working too hard, dear," Hera whispered in his ear, as her hands moved to his shoulders and she began to massage him. She was determined to hit him right where he hurt the most: "It's keeping you from thinking straight. What has this boy done to you?" She pinched him just enough to help him concentrate on her words. "Where is this great man I fell for? He feared nothing, do you remember? He went straight to the source of the problem and he always found the solution before anyone else. That man was my husband. The King. The greatest one of all. The captain of the ship." Another little pinch. "This is yet another storm. It will pass. But you have to make sure we get out of this with as little damage done as possible. Do not postpone it. Those people make matters complicated. That's their job. You listen to them if you want to. Do you want to?"

"It's not that simple." Zeus said. He was already feeling more relaxed. He had forgotten how strong and steady hands his wife had.

Hera grinned. Her trick worked. "I believe it is. Dismiss the boy." She held her husband's shoulders tighter to keep him from turning. She continued her massage, hoping that she might be able to fool him. "The NIS shall go on looking for the items. But! The longer you keep him in our service, the more damage he will cause."

Zeus could not help smiling to himself. He knew that Hera would put a foot wrong eventually. Yet, her haste stunned him. He wanted to get rid of him, too, but without arising suspicion around the real reasons for his dismissal. She had put on quite the performance with the very same goal. Great minds think alike, after all. But she seemed to have lost her way with words. Furious as he was at her for lying, however, he had to admit that she was a mastermind. Hadn't she been more concerned about Ares, she would have made sure to hide all the signs that led to her guilt. She used to excel in it. It's what came to his rescue plenty of times, after all.

Yet, somehow, she had turned a personal matter into an affair of the state.

"I won't stop the investigation." he let out. There was something up his sleeve. A final trick of sorts, which he would use when he was left with no other choice.

"I am not asking you to." Hera said. "I want those items found as much as you do."

 _Very smartly and subtly played_ , Zeus thought.

Yet, he could still outsmart his wife. He had fooled her into marrying him. Surely he could catch her by surprise once again.

"I will go to Aphrodite tomorrow morning. If she knows something, she had better speak up. If not, we might have to hasten that engagement announcement."

The trick worked. Hera was taken aback: "Is that not too soon?"

"Getting her married is the only way I can keep her out of trouble," Zeus reminded her. He pulled back his chair to take a better look at Hera. There was still a piece missing from the puzzle: "Do I have your consent for this marriage?"

Hera had no idea what to say. "Just..." She looked into Zeus' eyes. He was eagerly waiting for an answer. "I shall give you my final answer in two days. Let me see how their dinner tomorrow will go first." If Ares was as stupid as she thought it was, he might make the wrong move then, which would certify Hera's doubts.

Zeus nodded. "Good." Putting the documents back in the black folder, he revealed his secret winning streak: "Tell Eris the NIS would like to question her too."

Hera was stunned. She had not predicted that possibility. When the shock dried off, she uttered:

"I am not letting them inside the Palace!"

He had won. At last, he could throw his final card at the table: "You don't have a choice," he said, taking hold of another folder from the pile - a quiet sign that Hera had better not protest his wishes. "Eight-thirty tomorrow morning. The Grand Salon." Hera's favourite room. "No eavesdroppers."

The Queen had no idea what to do, other than blaming herself for her stupidity. She had looked into every single detail about this plan, yet she had forgotten about the most possible case scenario. Of course they would want to question her! Her and stupid inability to keep her mouth shut! But Eris did not have to worry. Her mother would take matters in her own hands. Again.

Firing Ganymede herself would have been a choice. Zeus would question it, though, and he would find out it was his own wife and daughter that had been conspiring it all along. On the other hand, if she would leave Eris be investigated, the NIS might discover Eris and Hera's involvement. In which case, Zeus' fury would be far greater and more power than him finding out from them.

No, she knew what to do. It was child's play. She would instruct Eris on what to do and what to say. The NIS agents would have a portable lie detector with them but Eris was a great actress. She could twist lies into truths and vice versa. All she had to do was to mind her body language and not let her stress take over. Not that she would get arrested... Like the rest of the Royal Family, she possessed a diplomatic passport. It provided her with full immunity on such matters.

Hera could not try to solve the puzzle in Zeus' presence. She would wait for Eris to come back from the engagements. Then they would talk. In private.

Mother to daughter.

* * *

 _Afternoon_

 _Vari, Attica_

The room is a beehive of activity. About twenty children are gathered around the big table, doing what they know best: making a mess. They are creating collages using the colourful cardboards or drawing the most Christmas-related thing they can think of. As soon as it's finished - or even long before that -, they hand it to me with the proudest smile on their faces. So far, the best artwork I've seen goes to a five-year-old boy, who convinced me that the table he drew, which is turned upside down, is in fact an elephant lying on the grass. Two girls at around the same age nearby have spilled the glitter all over their hands and now they keep chasing after everyone, threatening to give them "the curse". As for me, I am wearing a plastic tiara (which I have long outgrown) trying to help a rather shy three-year-old girl make a paper snowman. She is sitting on my lap and she has stopped sucking her thumb, focusing instead on that masterpiece we are creating. The poor man has a lilac head, an orange body, popcorn for buttons, and a red nose. The latter is my own fair contribution to this piece of art. I put all of my skill in cutting it and making it as pointy as I could. I'm currently trying to cut a decent black hat before moving on to the eyes. Oh, and his name is Rudolf.

Hebe is here, too. Somehow, I convinced Zeus Almighty to let her join me. I don't want her to live the cloistered life that me and the rest of her siblings had, appearing to the world only on the most important occasions. She has to discover the real world. Out of all of us, she is the one lucky enough to spend most of her life away from the spotlight. She will have all the privileges of privacy, while also enjoying the perks of being a royal. I might be jealous of her deep down. But I am glad Hera is not my mother. She dressed the poor girl in the most uptight dress she could find. The navy blue dress with the white lace on the collar makes Hebe look like a 1960s school girl. I wouldn't be surprised if that was the actual uniform Hera would wear at primary school, truth be told... But Hebe is breaking free of her mother's grip and is listening to her oldest sister, who told her to get as dirty as she could on their way here. Only her face and hands are filthy so far, but there's still time and space for improvement. Take pity on me instead. I am the one that needs to remain perfectly spotless.

Thalia was right. Leaving the suite did cheer me up. I wish I could say the same for her, but she is busier talking on the phone, arranging the final details for my other two engagements. But muuuuuuuuuum! I've been here for about an hour and I've done pretty much everything. From having small talk with the little ones (because their attention span can't last for more than five seconds) to helping the older ones bake chocolate muffins for their Christmas fund-raising bazaar. Joke's on me, really. I made a far greater mess in the kitchens than all the teenagers helping me combined. I did warn them, though, that I made a terrible housewife. They insisted. I smashed it. Quite literally.

Oh, sorry. Here comes the promoting bit: I am at _A Home for Children_ , a non-profit charity founded in 1976. According to the marble plaque in the main entrance, it was inaugurated by Queen Rhea. One of the many few things that Grandmother could be proud of, I suppose. So, the aim of this foundation is to provide shelter to abused or neglected children. Parents who are suitable, but cannot raise their children due to financial difficulties can also bring them there until their situation improves. Now, the children whose parents are either deceased, deemed unsuitable, or simply abandoned them can get adopted. The ones who cannot be classified as "orphaned", however, can stay there until their parents can raise them full-time. The whole facility is like a small village. There are fourteen houses for the "foster" families, the homes and offices of the staff, a library, a pharmacy, even a small grocery store selling only the most necessary things, such as bread, milk, fruit, and vegetables. There's also a small football and basketball court, a tiny little church, a venue with a small stage, and a playground. The children's ages vary from newborn (a few weeks old at least) to young adult. They are left in the care of foster mothers, who stay in the village full-time. It's basically a small family unit and blood siblings get to stay together. They must even get adopted together. Keeping the family together is high priority here. As soon as the fun is over, I will be asking the staff and the oldest children about their needs and the issues they are faced with. This ought to be Hera's job, she is the patron of this charity after all, but if she doesn't like it, I will gladly take over. The children too said they liked me more than her. And they never lie.

I hold up Rudolf and the little girl glees, stretching out her tiny arms to hold him. I hand it to her at once. I must have made a terrible companion, because the moment she holds him, she runs away, proudly showing it to her foster mother. Poor Rudolf, he won't survive for long. He's already losing his popcorns.

The manager, a woman in her thirties who has stood nearby all that time, leaned over to me and told me that that little girl had been left outside the front door at an elderly couple's house the day she was born. The couple could not keep her, so they had brought her here, although they come to visit as often as they can. They and the people in this village are the only family she has known so far.

Funnily enough, I realize just now how little I know about Ares' life before his adoption. I doubt he can remember things vividly. He has spent most of his life as a Prince, after all. But perhaps his story does not differ much from those of the children here. I know that he was also brought in this charity and that he often comes back for a visit when there are no cameras around. Perhaps he came from an abusive home, too, or his mother simply wanted to get rid of him. No one could have imagined, perhaps, that the King and the Queen would end up adopting him after a few visits here. There are lots of pictures from the day that they became his legal parents. Father and Hera pose proudly, but he looks overwhelmed. Suddenly, he is a Prince. His whole life will never be the same again. Almost a year later, Eris was born. That must have hurt. Suddenly, he went from being the centre of attention to being in the sidelines again. A born-into Princess was more interesting for the world than an adopted Prince, Doesn't matter that he had broken the mold and became the first-ever adopted member of a royal family all over Europe. For one thing, Eris is third in line to the throne. Ares will never have that right. Our bloodline is too sacred for outsiders to ruin it... No wonder he sees himself like an outsider. This could be the reason he cannot understand my difficulty to see him in a different light - or at least he pretends not to. He knows that he was adopted for all the wrong reasons. I was kind enough to remind him myself, too, this morning. But he was never able to be disciplined, he never agreed to be a pawn in anyone's game. Which is why his relationship with our parents has gone downhill. Zeus does not care much about him, Hera wants to keep a very close eye on him... They never asked him what he wants. The same thing as me. His freedom and independence. It's what drew us to each other in the first place. Still, his unpredictability terrifies me. I want to make him stop, but I don't know what he is going to do next. He's learned to solve his issues with the use of force. He might wish to use that trick on me, too, if I don't give in eventually.

Which might not be so difficult after all...

I am brought back to reality by a pair of tiny hands tugging at my sleeve. Two little girls, around the same age as the one I held a few minutes ago, are staring at me eagerly. The boldest of the two reveals their request. Stretching out a red cardboard, she asks me if I can help them make a snowman too.

I agree immediately and we get down to it. I only manage to cut a circle for the head when the other girl tells me: "You make great snowmen!"

I can't help smiling at that. Took me twenty-six years, but I finally found my true calling: making paper snowmen named after reindeer.

That must be the spirit!

* * *

 _Cronus and Rhea's Palace, Psychiko, northern suburbs of Athens_

"Inhale, Your Majesty."

Easier said than done. Cronus did as the royal doctor instructed him, only to be surprised by the huskiness of his breath and the annoying tingle in his chest. Being already too familiar with the process, he stood still for two seconds.

"Now, exhale."

That was harder to do. Before the air had left his lungs, his cough returned, louder and painful than it was in the morning. Taking out his handkerchief, he spat the blood that had risen in his throat.

The doctor noticed it at once.

"Right," he said, removing his stethoscope. "I am afraid the condition is much worse than I anticipated."

Cronus knew what would follow. The usual analysis of the symptoms and what they would mean. He had heard those words over and over again and he had neither the mood nor the patience for a reminder.

"Spare me the lecture," he ordered.

The doctor - a man in his mid-forties - removed his reading glasses. Walking forward so that he could face his patient, he stood in the most respectful way he could. Because of his status, he had to visit his patients - all members of the Royal Family, senior or extended - at their houses. Lavish neoclassical mansions that are almost as old as the Greek state or modern, luxurious apartments he could not even dare dream of. But then again, he had already been a pragmatist:

"Of course I'd need some X-ray scans beforehand so that we can know precisely how bad the situation is." He noticed how Cronus scoffed at the very idea of standing behind a screen to get a picture of the insides of his chest. The doctor wouldn't want to enrage him even more. He had once again caught him in his well-known bad moods. "But from your symptoms, I would suggest pneumonectomy as soon as possible. Please bear in mind that other factors, such as age-related health issues, also need to be taken into consideration."

That did not convince the former King:

"I'm just old. Blame it on that."

"With all due respect, Sir, I can't. There's more to it than that."

Cronus could not stand that young man or how he treated him like a child with his useless explanations and pretentious concern for his patients:

"Ah! So you look at me and see a walking wreckage. Is that it?"

"No, Sir, not at all!" the doctor exclaimed, wishing to avoid a misunderstanding. "I'm just saying that this is the best solution I can find. We remove the cancerous lung. Judging by your progress during recovery afterwards, you may need to undergo chemotherapy to keep the disease from spreading."

Cronus stopped for a while. He already knew about those details, but his pain during breathing convinced him otherwise. Deciding to stop feeling annoyed by the doctor's ways, he asked:

"How much time do I have left? If I don't have the operation?"

The younger man hesitated, out of fear of Cronus' reaction:

"A year," he revealed. "Two, at most. You are quite robust for your age. But if you have the operation, you will likely live for another three to five years. No chemotherapy involved."

 _Twelve months..._ That sounded rather terrifying to Cronus. But he would not dare admit it.

"Those are just speculations," he let out.

"I'm afraid, Sir, those are the only ones I can give. But His Majesty will certainly have to be infor-"

"I am the head of this family!" Cronus barked, taking the doctor by surprise. The mere mention of his son's name in here was forbidden. Yet the doctor said that he should tell Zeus his father was ill! So that he could celebrate! "And I don't want anyone to know. Especially my wife!"

If Rhea found out, she would be happy. At long last, she could take her revenge on him. How convenient for her! To see him frail, unable to stand, weakened from the pain and the medicine would have been the catharsis she had been after for so long. He would not give her that satisfaction. Not as long as either of them were still alive.

The doctor realized then that he had not seen the former Queen anywhere in the palace. The butler had simply told him that Her Majesty had gone out, to visit some old friends of hers, and that she would back in the afternoon. Although it sounded rather odd to him, he knew better than to question the whereabouts of his patients. Instead, he let the Cronus believe that he saw him as a husband who would not want to upset his wife. A loving family man, though, from what he had seen, he was pretty sure that description did not befit him at all.

"What will you do?" he asked, referring to the operation.

Cronus' answer sounded definite: "Let it be."

It had to remain a secret no matter what. Zeus himself would not be told until it was too late. Cronus wouldn't want the Palace to issue an announcement about his health. He wouldn't want the people and the media to take pity in him. Most of all, he disliked how his family would treat him. They would all remember suddenly how much they loved him and pretend to be putting on a brave face and present a united front just for the world to see. But behind closed doors, they would whisper and calculate how much time he'd have left, plotting what they would do with their own share of his private wealth afterwards.

He wouldn't give them the upper hand. He was the rightful patriarch of the House of Olympios. The prospect of him being a burden was humiliating; he would not stand for it.

"As you wish," the doctor replied, annoyed with this stubborn old dog. "Keep on taking the medicine I prescribed and wear the oxygen mask at the times I've told you. If you have any pains, you may call me at all times."

But Cronus had had enough of that boring soliloquy: "Next time I need your guidance, I will ask for it. Now go."

The doctor left at once. As soon as Cronus was left on his own, he remembered his hallucination from earlier in the day. A result of the pills the doctor had given him, apparently. He had his family's blood in his hands...

Ah, yes. Rhea's revenge must be feeling sweet already.

But he had not regretted his decision. He was a man of dignity.

He would go on living that way until the very last moment.

* * *

 _Evening_

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

The only bodyguard who managed to survive Ares' wrath still smiles weakly when he sees me. Lydia may have told him that I wished to see his colleague and he is asking me to wish Kostas all the best on his behalf, too. I say goodbye to the one to the one that accompanied me to the engagements, and then I am finally allowed into my suite.

Blanche runs to me at once. She looks frightened. She keeps rubbing herself against my legs yelping. Getting on my knees, I hold her tiny face in my hands, petting her, then holding her in my arms. She's trembling. I have not seen her like that since her days in the shelter.

Oh no. No, no, no. Not him again...

I make my way to the sitting room, but my spying maid shows up, closing the door behind her. She is holding an ice bag and some bandages. I think I can predict what has happened.

"What is the matter?" I ask.

She flinches. Then she turns to face me, but still avoids my gaze. "I don't think it would be wise for you to go there, Miss."

There is something in her voice that I don't like. She is upset. If someone like her looks like that, I can predict that Ares is behind it. But why?

"Come on, Blanche!" I tell my pet, trying to calm her down. It seems to be working. "Let's get inside and see what he's done now."

She stops at her tracks, as does the maid. I am too tired to deal with this nonsense.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, will you just tell me what's going on?"

The maid takes a step forward. At long last!

"It's the Prince, Miss. He... um..."

I'm losing the little patience I have left. "Yes?"

"The bodyguard that was left behind entered the room shortly after you have. He wanted to check if everything was all right. Then-"

"Who gave him permission to come in here?"

That must be Zeus Almighty's doing. Bet everything you own on it.

"I can't tell."

"If you want to keep your job, you can!" I spat. "Now tell me!"

"His Majesty."

Told you.

She notices my irritation and rushes to explain: "But he has been doing it for years. It's a common practice."

"This is a hotel! No one can enter into whichever room he pleases, especially if it's on the fifth floor!" Blanche rubs herself against my legs again. I'm sorry, little girl. But I can't not shout. I notice the things the maid is carrying. "What is this, what is the meaning of this?"

She opens her mouth to speak, but I am not wasting another second with her. I open the double doors to the sitting room at once. I look around. That was too much ado about nothing... Everything is in its right place, they all seem to be in order. Except for the big guy on the sofa.

I let out a small scream at the sight of him. His shirt is torn in places and a few buttons are missing. My friendly maid ties a bandage around his wrist and on a table nearby is a half-full glass of water with some painkillers. Then slowly, shyly, he raises his eyes and I can see his face. His right eye is slightly swollen and his upper lip is cut. Honestly, I leave him on his own for the entire afternoon with both of my maids to tend to his every need and that's how he thanks me for my hospitality!

Not Greek of him. Not at all.

Just what on earth am I going to say to our parents and the hotel administration when they ask me what the matter is?

Ares turns to the maid. She looks at me, indicating that I am the one in charge here. I sigh, then nod. He needs to explain things to me in private and she understands as much as well. I wait for her to enter the media room. It is distant enough from where Ares and I are sitting and she cannot eavesdrop. At least this one is decent...

Sitting on the chair opposite him, I look him straight in the eye. He does not avoid my gaze. As if he is not ashamed of the mess he has done but instead had every right to cause it. I cross my arms and tap the fingers of my right hand to my left elbow. Whatever he has to say had better be told soon and briefly.

"Go on, then," I say. "Give me your best shot."

He groans, as if he has any reason to: "Your bodyguard entered your bedroom after you had left. He opened a drawer and pulled out a black notebook from inside it."

What? Could it be...?

"I could hear him from inside the gym. I was looking for that bloody mobile phone of mine."

He had forgotten it in the Palace, apparently. It's impossible that he has been gone for almost a whole day and Hera has not called him at least a thousand times.

He furthers: "The door between your bedroom and the bathroom was open. I approached your chamber. I was careful enough not to be noticed. He put on gloves and began to leafing through it. At some point he stopped on one page and took his mobile phone out. He was taking pictures."

No... what? That... It is my diary. Everything fits. The bottom drawer, the black notebook... Oh, no. Could that... Is this how Hera found out about New York? But he was hired by Father... Oh, dear, he knows. Hence the rush for me to marry Hephaestus. It's my punishment for getting involved with Ares... For having conceived his child...

He adds: "As soon as I realized what he was doing, I startled him. Placed my pistol behind his head and threatened him to make him stop. But he attacked. I couldn't stay defenseless."

I don't know what to say. It's all a little too much to take in. I was not expecting Father to go to such great lengths. I thought that, at least, there were some aspects of my privacy that he respected. Is that why he hired the bodyguard all along? To keep as close an eye on me as he could? And Hera... That stupid, silly, selfish, careless creature! She is backing the whole thing, I am sure.

Ares can go on talking about how he beat the man all he wants. He is not telling me the whole truth. He is far too proud to ever admit defeat.

I am feeling nauseous... It's that dreadful pain in the stomach again. It always hits me when I'm distraught.

At once, I get up and walk to my room. I need to see just how much of a damage they have made there. If Ares is lucky enough, my maids have fixed his mess for him before my return.

I know he is following me. He is calling my name, telling me to stop. But I don't. His efforts to keep me back mean that he is trying to hide something. I open the door.

I step back.

It's a horrible sight. Truly like a battlefield. Everything I had on my dressing table, my fragrances, the make up... It's all scattered on the floor. But none have landed on the carpet, thank goodness. I won't have to pay the hotel for a new one. Some chairs are turned upside down and one is lying on the carpet, looking like it's broken. Great... There are some blood stains on a wall, too, but those can be cleaned up. It's not the damage they have caused, that is reparable and I can have a replica of that broken chair commissioned for the hotel.

I suppose it's everything. Seeing Ares like that, the fact that they dueled in the only room in here where I felt safe, my diary...

That annoys me the most. Infuriates me, rather. Yes, that's the right word. I want to punch something, anything, just to get the frustration out of me. I'm about to be held responsible for Ares' second black eye, but my body has a different idea.

I rush to the WC. Falling on all fours, I let it all out once again. Before I even realize it, Ares is sitting beside me, holding back my hair and ensuring me that everything is all right. I am kind enough to thank him for his help, but as soon as I am able to talk again, I am not that gracious.

"Please, leave."

I stare into his eyes as I am saying that. He is smiling.

"What?"

As if I am speaking in effing Chinese or something...

"Just... get out of here!"

Still, he won't oblige. "I need to protect you," he says. "To make sure you are all right. I can't leave knowing there are people in here watching your every step."

I am not in the mood for a fight. I just want all of this to end. Is that too much to ask?

"I don't need to be saved."

"The hell you don't!"

Everything is just... twirling in my head and all I want is to lie down. But I won't be able to, not in that room that smells of Ares from miles away now.

Since he doesn't seem willing to leave, I ask: "Where is the bodyguard?"

"He's fine," he replies. "Home, maybe. He fled before I could see how he was doing, the bastard."

I don't know how I manage to keep myself from slapping him again. I simply nod and look away. Ares is still there, staring at me, as if I will disappear any minute now. Which is a superpower I wish I had now, frankly. We remain silent like that for two minutes. Then, at long last, he gets up to leave. But before he leaves the crime scene, there is one last thing he wishes to say:

"If you need me, you know where you will find me."

"I won't."

He walks away, without saying a word. A few seconds pass by before I decide to walk into my room again. The diary, I need to find it...

It has landed right next to the dressing table, face-down. Some pages are creased but none have been torn. It is my job to do so.

I begin to tear the pages from the diary with as much force as I can muster. Written or unwritten, it doesn't matter. I don't care about the hours I spent writing in it, letting my thoughts out. Foolish me, I had thought it would be kept private and had made sure to keep it that way for as long as I could. But, apparently, the heads of the family had different ideas.

If I don't have a right to express myself freely, they don't have any right to intrude in my life either. I cry while I destroy it, but it is for the best. It is all that stress and frustration coming out. I won't need another diary. I doubt I will ever write again without feeling like a secret camera has been installed right above my head, watching my every move.

The only pages that I will spare are the ones where I describe the day of the abortion. As a friendly reminder to myself not to trust so easily again. That I am survivor too. I've been through worse. Everything else is child's play. I don't care about people finding out my secret anymore. Too many people know it already.

Suddenly, I remember. Father does not speak French. There is no doubt about it. Grandfather thought that it was a "womanly" language. I've seen it for myself too. Every time he has to deal with French-speaking dignitaries, either me or Hera have to do the interpreting. There is no way Father has read my diary. That leaves only one person sullied.

Hera. It's all her doing. And she will pay for it. Oh, she has yet to see the best of me. Her status and significance be damned. And won't it be just a sweet, sweet revenge! It's a dish best served cold, after all.

She is in for quite the tasting.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I was originally supposed to introduce Rhea in the previous chapter, so that I also wouldn't break the row from all that Aphrodite/Ares drama. But when I re-read it, I ended up adding so much information that I decided to give Rhea her very own chapter.** ** **I could have made it a one-shot side story and I could also have made it longer, BUT any plot hole in here is intentional. I will expand on all**** ** ** **the characters' background as the story develops.******

 ** **This is by far the hardest thing I ever had to write because I had to explore the life of a complicated woman all the way from 1941 (when she was 16) to 2006 (when she's 81) and try and incorporate Greek history and the shift in values over the years as much as possible.** I tried to keep Cronus and Rhea's story as close to the original myth as possible. Since I couldn't have him eat his children literally, I tried the next best thing. **

****Trigger warning: it is rated M due to emotional abuse and other stuff, so I just want to be safe. You don't have to read it if you don't want to, but it's full of background info - especially on Zeus and his two marriages -, so it's still relevant to the plot.****

 **History mentioned: 1) The Greek Civil War (1946 - 1949) took place because of the Truman doctrine between the Communists and the Royalists. Long story short, the Royalists won and throughout the 1950s, the Communists were exiled in the islands near Attica (e.g. Makronisos) where they were kept in camps as prisoners, enduring physical and emotional abuse until they were forced to sign a piece of paper that said they were no longer supporting the Communist party. Remember, that was the era of McCarthyism. The German occupation of Greece during World War II lasted from 1941 to 1944.**

 **2) The former king of Greece Constantine II actually tried to make a counter-coup during his time in exile in Rome in the late 1960s. It failed and it's one of the many reasons monarchy in Greece was abolished in 1975.**

 **3) Akamas: It's a peninsula in the district of Paphos in Cyprus, known for its very rare flora. Time and again there have been talks about building hotels there (because Aphrodite's baths are a short distance away) but all the Cypriots I know are against it.**

* * *

 _17 December 2006_

 _4:00 A.M._

 _Rethymnon, Crete_

The elderly woman stood on the edge of the cement pier. Taking a deep breath, she took in the peace and quiet of the early morning. The town behind her was sound asleep. The street lamps on the dock and the main road, far behind, illuminated the small houses. Like a painting. She turned to face the vacant marina. Only a ferry had docked there. It would leave in about two hours, carrying passengers, vehicles, food, medicine, and post from Crete to the nearby islands and the mainland. Then it would return, accomplishing the same goal. Over and over again for years on end. An endless, boring routine. She looked elsewhere, to the boats in the distance. The dark waves mirrored the light of their lanterns. The fishermen had gone to work already.

She breathed in the sea air, cherishing that sight. How calm and peaceful it was...

 _It's better this way,_ she thought. She wouldn't like to face any cheering crowds; she never had. Especially today, when she had nothing to celebrate about.

The sea was not calm tonight. As if it could read her thoughts or mirror her feelings. She had missed her son, yet wished she would not have to do his bidding. But she had no choice.

He was her duty.

At first glance, she was yet another retiree. Short grey hair, a beige pantsuit, a white cotton shirt, short brown heels, and a black coat. Her silk floral headscarf protected her perfectly coiffed hair from the cold breeze. Much as she had tried to convince Amphitrite, her daughter-in-law, that she did not need it, the younger woman persisted. She had to look less like the farmer she had become and more like the Queen she had been.

The woman Rhea wished she could just leave behind.

It had been six years since her last visit to Athens. Zeus had asked her to attend the gala for Aphrodite's twentieth birthday. Her initial joy at reuniting with her family had soon worn off and she had come to regret her decision bitterly. Crowds had gathered at port to welcome her again; Athens had become far more noisy and polluted than she could remember; and she had been a stranger to her grandchildren. They respected her for being the mother of their father. Yet they treated her no differently than they would treat another foreign queen consort. Except for Aphrodite. She had been the only one that had made her feel like home. But they could not fool themselves. They were not close; two weeks was not enough for them to make up for all the years they had lost.

Rhea repaid her granddaughter's kindness. She had vowed to protect her from harm. The change in her son had scared her.

He had become just like his father. It was Rhea's duty to make sure that Aphrodite would not suffer the same fate.

 _The top is a very lonesome place._

Poseidon and Amphitrite kept a safe distance. They had flown to Crete a few days ago to see how she was coping and to escort her back to Athens. She turned to face them. They didn't notice her. Amphitrite had fallen asleep on her husband's shoulder and he was staring at his phone. Their age difference was obvious at first glance. Twelve years were not that difficult to hide after a while. Poseidon's hair had grown white whereas his wife remained as radiant as the day she had first been introduced to her. Their children, Triton and Rhode, took after her in looks. They had not joined their parents, choosing to stay home instead.

Rhea frowned. Such typical teenagers they had become! But they were lucky. Their father's princely title had earned them one as well, but without the strain of the spotlight that came with it. They had the title and some privileges, but none of the responsibilities. They were free.

She was happy for them. They would never have to fight for it.

The wind blew in her face, bringing tears to her eyes.

She would never tell her family the whole story. They shouldn't have to carry the burden of her own scars. She loved them too much to put them through it.

Being a half-stranger to them was preferable. She would rather be remembered as the grandmother who had paid her dues to herself by moving to the island where she had lived the happiest moments of her life.

Six months with her son...!

* * *

It was the longest she had spent with any of her children during their childhood.

Crete was the perfect hiding place. Miles away from her husband and the fear that he'd take the baby away. As he had done the four previous times...

Poseidon was the first child she had tried to free of Cronus' chains. She had been heavily pregnant to him when she had traveled out of Athens incognito. She had no idea where she was going and neither did she care to find out. In the end, it didn't matter.

Cronus tracked her down and sent some soldiers to get her and the boy. The minute she was left alone with him, he slapped her across the face. His words still echoed in her ears, almost half a century later.

"A queen should never disgrace her king and husband!"

She spent the next two weeks locked in her room. She would beg to hold her son in her arms, tight, as close to her as she could, and to nurse him. But Cronus had ridiculed that request. "Queens do not nurse. They have the nannies for that." When he came back to free her, she asked him where Poseidon was. He looked her straight in the eye. "Away!"

Rhea understood. No matter how many times she would fall on her knees, he would never let her near her children. As if she was a curse they had to hide from.

"They are born royal and you were not. They should not spend time with you."

Didn't matter that he had made her the future queen. He was adamant that the children's status ought to be impeccable.

"Don't worry," he reassured her one night after he had too much to drink. "They're safe!"

Of that Rhea was sure. Years later, she discovered where her children had been taken. They had been kept in their nurseries, allowed outside for only twenty minutes every day or whenever their father needed to put on a show. To present to the world the great family he had created. If someone asked about his wife, he would tell them she was "indisposed". No one cared to know more. They were not interested in a woman's torturing frustration, destroying the Persian carpet with her fingernails every night trying to free herself from her agony.

She had to suffer in silence. If she screamed, everyone would think she was hysterical. Then she would never see her children again.

Cronus wouldn't want them anywhere close to their maniac mother. They ought to believe that they were flawless; that trouble and hardships could not touch them.

 _The greatest illusion of all._

* * *

Once, Rhea was famous for her great beauty. She would always wear her long dark hair down. She loved how soft they felt falling on her shoulders, cascading her round face like a veil. Her big emerald eyes revealed her love of life and enchanted dozens of men.

The first Sunday after she had turned seventeen, the first suitor had come to her home. The son of a banker, probably a few years older than her. He could provide her with luxury, travels, and her very own household. She was hiding behind the lace curtain that her mother had hung behind the door separating the corridor and the living room. Her heart was beating wildly. She was dreaming of what her life would be like as that stranger's wife. Perhaps it could not be that bad. But her father had not said 'yes' immediately. He wanted to see if his precious daughter could get a better offer.

Many more visitors followed. Some came with their parents and others on their own. She liked the last ones the most. They were independent and courageous, as she had dreamed her future husband to be. All of them who expressed their desire to marry her were wealthy. Far more affluent than her own father, in fact. They were businessmen, sons of doctors, captains, ship owners, merchants, aspiring politicians...

But no one could make a far more tempting offer than the Crown Prince.

He told her father that he didn't care about the dowry. If he accepted, Cronus would make Rhea his queen. "Both to the country and to my heart."

 _Empty words with vain meanings._

* * *

Their wedding took place on 12 November 1946, three days after her twenty-first birthday. It was the most lavish occasion to have ever taken place in Greece. The people were gathered in the streets for the first joyous occasion after the terrors of the Second World War. The civil war between the communists and the royalists was in its early stages and it would not end until three years later.

Looking back, Rhea regretted not paying more attention to the protests in the streets. The communists did not think much of the occasion and tried to make it known in the best way they could. Many of those were arrested that day and would later be sent into exile at the nearest islands. It all looked like an omen of what was to follow.

Back in the day, she could not care less about them. She was stunned by the royal pomp and pageantry, the crowds that had gathered to see her, and the feeling that she was in her wedding gown. The best seamstresses in Athens had been working on it for months, sewing and embroidering it by hand. The fabric had been a gift of her fiancé - what a lovely word indeed! - from Paris. She did not question where he had found such an amazing silk and lace so soon after the Second World War. It was yet another slight detail she would happily overlook. Her veil and tiara were a gift of Queen Gaia. As a nice welcome to the family. Rhea felt like she was wearing the most magnificent creation that human hands had ever created. Even Cronus told her what a magnificent bride she made.

In the photos, she could be seen holding her husband's arm, while shyly trying to hide behind him. Her mother had told her what to expect on the same night, after the lights would have gone out. Much as Rhea was shocked, she was also eager. He'd be gentle, he had promised her. She would feel nothing but pleasure.

When that time came, she laid flat on her back as her mother had instructed. She waited. About five minutes later, he entered the room, wearing his silk pajamas. Her heart began to beat wildly again. She had never touched a man that way before. She could not even recall if she had ever been kissed the way a woman in love was supposed to. She had read all about it in the books she would hide under the mattress, where her mother and her governess could not see them.

It was nothing like she had read. It did not even come close to what Cronus had promised. But her mother was right. She did feel pain.

His invasion was excruciating and agonising. He tried to hush her screams by kissing her hungrily. All throughout, his hands would wander shamelessly around her body. She closed her eyes, waiting for it to end. Suddenly, he let out a scream and she felt something like hot water running inside her. She believed that Cronus was done then but he remained on top of her, trying to catch his breath. He disgusted her. She did not like how his sweaty body was pinning her down on the bed and she felt like his weight was suffocating her. Then Cronus whispered the words that would hunt her for the rest of their marriage: "Now you're mine for life."

She stayed up that night, listening to him snoring beside her and wondering if that was what every woman endured on her wedding night and if the books were lying. Either way, she knew that she was probably carrying Cronus' child already. That must have been what he had spilled within her before he was done.

After the sun arose, she turned to where her husband lay sleeping. What a horrible, terrifying word! She did not see him there. He must have left before everyone else in the Palace of Tatoi had woken up.

She confused the pain low on her stomach for her time of the month. _Perhaps it takes a while for women to conceive after this_ , she thought. But the more she counted the days, the less sense it all made. No, it was too early. Her period could not come twice in the same month. When she pulled the sheets aside, she noticed the puddle of blood under her legs and brought her hand to her mouth, trying not to make a sound.

The most precious thing she owned had been taken from her. Just like that.

* * *

He would come to her room every night. During each visit, she gave him what he wanted without making a sound. She was afraid of whimpering for fear of enraging him. He had hit her once, by accident, shortly before he was done. Much as he would apologize over the next days, the bruise on her cheek was still there. Queen Gaia had noticed it too and asked her what it was. "I fell off the stairs," Rhea replied. "I was not careful enough."

The Queen scolded her, of course, but she did not mind it. In all that time that she had been married, she had learned that words meant nothing. Actions mattered more.

Five months later, the nausea started and her period stopped.

The first pregnancy.

The news were met with excitement. The press praised the "happy" parents-to-be, foreign dignitaries sent congratulatory cards, the King and the Queen were awfully pleased, and Cronus took great pride in his wife bearing the heir to the throne.

It would have to be a son, naturally. Every firstborn in the Royal Family had been a boy.

Rhea did not enjoy those nine months. She was under so much stress that the doctor had requested as much rest as possible. But the country was still suffering from the civil war. The streets had turned into battlefields. It would not be wise of her to leave, not while she was carrying the future of the country.

But there was only one positive outcome. Cronus had stopped coming to her at night.

Hestia was born in the early morning hours on 4 November 1947. It was dangerously calm night. Another omen for the storm that was yet to come. But she was relieved that she had let her husband down. She was not proven worthy of being his queen. Perhaps he could leave her alone now.

Forty days later, she entered her room to find the baby gone. Sick with worry, she rushed to Cronus and her parents-in-law. None was able or willing to give her an answer, except to tell her that Hestia was safe. On the same night, Cronus resumed his visits.

* * *

A year later, she was with child again.

"This one had better be a boy."

She could see it in Cronus' eyes. He would settle for nothing else. He had even given her special herbal teas to drink, to ensure that, this time, his wife would not disappoint him again.

It was not an easy delivery. The labour took longer than the first one. Rhea blamed it on the teas.

Another girl.

She wept when she first held Demeter in her hands. She knew what he would do. Once again, as soon as Demeter was forty days old, he took her away. She was in the room when the two unknown women walked in and held the little one in their arms. Rhea was too weak to ask any questions or to put up a fight. She just stayed in bed, promising that she would hold her daughters in her arms again soon. Cronus' visits did not start again until three months later, when Rhea was strong and healthy enough to bear another child.

Then Hades came.

Twenty-one gun salutes at Lycabettus Hill let the world know that, at long last, after six years of marriage, Cronus got the son he wanted. Rhea hoped that now he would prove he had a heart and let her reunite with her daughters. She would do anything he asked her, as long as she could hold her little girls in her arms again. She had not seen them much in those five years. Ten minutes every month with them could never be enough. She needed more time with them, she wanted to get to know them.

Cronus nodded. Rhea handed him his son. Examining the baby, he announced his name. Hades. The darkest one he could think of. The mere sound of it instilled terror. Perfect for a future king. Rhea did not protest. She hoped that Cronus would allow her to see her son, too. Twenty minutes later, he agreed to show her to the girls' nursery.

Rhea thought that her legs could not run fast enough. The minute Cronus opened the door, she stood still. Hestia and Demeter were looking at her, trying to remember who she reminded them of. She approached them. Lifting a doll from the floor, she handed it to them and knelt beside them. That seemed to work. Slowly, they grew fond of her and she spent an hour with them in which they introduced themselves to one another. Rhea was stunned. Her daughters could already resemble her more than their father. Especially Hestia. She had her mother's beauty but her father's piercing stare and domineering presence. Demeter was her mother's perfect double, except that she had Cronus' indigo eyes. Hestia was bold enough to ask all the questions. What was her name, where did she come from, how long had she been married to Father, if she could call her Mother since she was Father's wife...

"I am your mother because I gave birth to you!" Rhea replied. "And I love you. You were taken from me. I bid you, never forget that."

A man cleared his throat behind her. She turned to face him. Cronus was pointing at his watch. Her visit was over.

Over the next few days, she would go to see her daughters daily. She was stunned by their ability to form full sentences and to be at ease with strangers. On the third day of her visits, Demeter walked up to her and hugged her. "Please don't go again," she whispered in her ear. "All the others leave fast."

She asked her what she meant. Hestia helped her understand that Cronus would bring them new nannies every few days. He would dismiss them before they had even began to bond with the children. If any of the girls protested or did not make the nannies feel comfortable, he threatened to lock them in a darkened room and keep them there for two days.

Rhea hugged both girls. "I'm here now," she said. "Everything will be fine! I can keep you safe!"

* * *

Cronus would not let her see Hades. She could see her daughters all she wanted, but his son would be king. He shouldn't be soft. A company of men would be the best for him.

When Rhea discovered she was pregnant again, four months after Hades' birth, she decided to run away. She didn't care whether the baby would be a boy or a girl - the spare or another burden. She would not curse another living soul with the torture of having Cronus as their father. As soon as she had settled in somewhere safe, she would come back for her girls. She could not rescue Hades so soon, the stakes were too high.

Five months later, the plan could be set into action. A few farmers who lived in the village of Tatoi agreed to help her. They managed to take her to an island some five hours away from Attica. The closest one they could travel to which had not turned into a concentration camp for the communists.

She lived with the spinster sister of the captain who had brought her there. The woman could tell that her guest looked familiar, but she could not remember her name. She had never learned to read or write. She lived in a lovely little house by the sea, which her grandfather had built with his own two hands in his youth. Every morning, Rhea would walk along the rocks and stare at the nearest islands. The mainland was not visible from there. She was trying to come up with a plan to bring her daughters back. To the woman that gave her shelter, she had simply told her that her husband was a captain and his ship had sank off the coast of Mexico. It was a name the woman had never heard of before.

"Is it far?"

"Yes."

"Like, on another planet?"

Rhea smiled. "You could say that."

"And what are you doing away from your home and your girls?"

Rhea could not come up with an answer convincing enough. That woman had seen a lot, she could see it in her eyes. She had to work since she had been a child and she had matured early, despite her lack of education. Conveniently enough, she was making a living as a midwife and a matchmaker. A skill she had learned from her mother.

"I get couples married and help them have babies. That is the best kind of blessing."

She felt jealous of that woman. Of how simple her life was, much as she liked to complain about the hardships. When the time came for the baby to be born, Rhea let her do all the work herself. She knew the challenges of giving birth at home. The Palace could not provide her with any more tools than the midwife kept in her cabin. Nevertheless, it was nothing like she had experienced before. She saw how she hanged a copper pot filled with water and towels from the fireplace, right above the stove, to keep them warm. She would check the position of the baby with her fingertips and by placing her ear on Rhea's stomach. When the moment had come for the baby's head to come out, she told her to stand up on two old bricks instead of continuing to lie down. She even called two of her friends from the nearby houses to come and help her. Rhea had only seen those women twice before, but they were no better educated than the midwife. They were supporting her from each side and she had brought her arms around their shoulders for better balance. All throughout, the midwife was kneeling down, massaging Rhea's stomach to check the position of the baby's head. Rhea kept on pushing, screaming as loudly as she could. As she always did.

"Don't scream, you need to be strong enough to push!" the one woman next to her told her. She stretched out her right arm. "Here, bite my hand instead!" Rhea looked at her stunned. She hadn't done anything to hurt that woman so much. But before she could resist, the woman pushed her hand inside Rhea's mouth. She was stunned at first, but soon followed her lead. At every single push, Rhea would bite that woman's skin a little bit harder. When the baby's head was almost out, the pain was so unbearable that Rhea thought she would be cut in half. She bit on that woman's hand so hard that she feared she might break it. But that woman did not protest or pull it back. She had learned to endure the pain. Besides, a child was about to be born. Nothing else could be compared to that miracle. Rhea's muffled screams filled the room and echoed over the empty village until a loud, clear cry was heard.

"It's a boy!" the midwife said. "A very strong, healthy boy!"

He looked just like Hestia, Rhea thought. She felt like she was too weak to stand up but the cord was still attached. The midwife was still holding the baby with the one hand while preparing Rhea for the afterbirth with another. The woman whose hand she'd bit approached the fireplace and with a wooden stick, took out the warm towels and placed them on a metal dish. After that was done, she threw some alcohol into a pot and set it on fire, throwing a pair of scissors in there. In the meantime, the other woman helped Rhea sit down. After everything was over, Rhea held her clean little baby boy in her arms. He was way so much heavier than Hades! That was a good sign. Despite her exhaustion, she could not stop staring at him, as if he'd disappear if she dared blink. At long last, she could sleep with her baby in her arms, without fearing that he would be taken away from her! There would be no gun salutes or a nation celebrating the birth of baby they would never get to know. He was hers and hers alone.

Her greatest achievement.

It was the happiest ten weeks in Rhea's life. She had gladly given up her impractical designer dresses for the more practical ones the midwife had taught her to sew. Rhea was already a skilled embroideress, so it was not difficult for her to put a couple of dresses together. They all had buttons, so that she could nurse her little son without needing to strip completely. Every time she did it, she would hold her son's hand and she would hum a happy tune.

One night, before she placed him on the makeshift cradle (an oval tray made of clay and filled with towels and a blanket), she looked into his blue eyes.

"Poseidon," she whispered. "That's your name!"

* * *

But reality soon caught up with them.

It was a little after midnight when the four soldiers knocked on their door. Poseidon burst out crying, waking up Rhea and the midwife, who rushed to open the door. All of the villagers had already gathered around the small cabin, eager to find out whether the mysterious widow living in the midwife's cabin was indeed the future queen.

Rhea's heart sank. She had recognized them immediately. She knew what they wanted. And if she dared cause a fuss, she would only make matters worse for Poseidon.

Without saying a word, she walked up to the crib and took the baby in her arms.

She stood up straight before the men, trying very hard to keep from crying. "I will come with you on one condition."

The soldiers exchanged puzzled looks. Then their leader said: "What is it?"

"You will not touch my son."

He nodded. Rhea walked out at one, trying her best to avoid the midwife's glance. The woman ran after her, trying to figure out what was the meaning of all that. But Rhea knew, she was not the only one to whom she owed an explanation. Before she climbed up the stone stairs to the pier, she turned to the crowd. With as much courage as she could muster, she took a careful look at everyone. All the people who had been so kind to her for so long... The fishermen, craftsmen, housewives, sailors, teachers, bakers... Those villagers had taught her a different kind of life. A far simpler one. They showed her what happiness looked like.

 _A fairytale that ended abruptly._

"Good village people, I know I hid the truth from all of you. But believe me, I have my own reasons. I am Rhea, the wife of the Crown Prince and the mother to his children. My husband is not a captain who died in a country far away from this island. My son is the second in line to the throne. He may become king one day. I-" Her voice trembled. Everyone was stunned. But she was feeling guilty. As if she had committed the worst crime. "I know that I lied to you. But I ran away for reasons I cannot tell you. Perhaps, one day, you will find out the truth. I will always cherish your kindness and your most generous hospitality. I- I apologize for everything I have caused and beg for your forgiveness."

She was expecting them to throw stones at her. Instead, they all approached her. The midwife rushed to her side. She hugged her tightly, which took Rhea by surprise. "You are stronger than you think," she told her. "Here. Take this. To bring you luck." Rhea held the small handkerchief the woman took out from inside her blouse and closed it in her fist. The midwife brought both her hands around it and held it tight. Then she leaned forward to kiss Rhea's hand.

Tears rose in Rhea's eyes. That kind woman had become the best friend she had ever had. And she had treated her so, so badly...

"Forgive me," she mouthed.

The midwife wiped Rhea's teardrops with her fingertips: "I already have."

The other villagers followed her lead. They all kissed Rhea's hand and wished her all the best. They didn't need to forgive her. She had lied in order to protect herself. They didn't care to know the rest of the story. No pregnant woman ran away from home and lived in a foreign island if she was happy in her marriage.

After everyone was done, Rhea got into the boat. The soldiers followed suit. Little Poseidon soon realized that he was no longer in his crib and burst out crying. Rhea brought his tiny head close to her face and began to hum the happy tune again.

Before they sailed away, she took one last look at the villagers. Some women had removed their headscarves. Others got out their handkerchiefs. They all began to wave goodbye to her - that so pretty, yet so mysterious woman.

The few people that could read promised they would start buying newspapers. Perhaps, among the long, black and white pages, they would find a picture of her with her children.

One day, she might find happiness too. She deserved it.

* * *

Cronus was not at all generous.

He forbade her to see her children again. Almost immediately, he began to control everything that concerned his wife. From the food she'd eat and the clothes she'd wear to the books she'd read and the charities she'd support. She had to smile every time she was with him for the world to see. If she did not, Cronus would take the children some place where she could not find them again.

Rhea didn't have another choice. She gave in to each of Cronus' wishes, painful as they might have been. She did not even tell him 'no'. She had to keep her children as close to her as possible.

One night, four months after her failed attempt to escape, Cronus pulled back before he had even started.

"You're with child again," he said, as he was putting on his robe, his back turned to her. "You know what to do."

Of course he wouldn't want a fifth one. She had already given him two sons. An heir and a spare. And two daughters before that, to marry them off to foreign princes and increase the prestige of their family. All over Europe. And their children - Cronus' grandchildren - would marry important people, become kings and queens, politicians, businessmen, first ladies, presidents...! As long as they were influential. They ought to make the family name proud.

But she was determined to keep the baby. Three months later, in the early morning, she stood by the mirror in her cotton nightdress. She touched her belly. How perfectly round it was! Like a very sweet fruit that had yet to ripe. She smiled. Then, she felt a movement, a small tickle. The baby's first kick! _I'll protect you_ , she whispered in the dark. _We'll be all right._ She noticed the pair of scissors nearby. Funny, how she had once used it to cut her wrists. After her husband had refused to let her visit Hestia and Demeter in their nurseries. She was pregnant to Hades back then.

She stood still, a young woman of twenty-nine, mother of four, expecting her fifth, amazed at the sight. Yet, she was lost. She didn't want to lose yet another child to her abusive husband. But she could not run away either. She was the future Queen of the country. It was her duty to remain married, no matter what. She could not survive as a divorced woman.

 _As royalty, we serve. As women, we obey._

Queen Gaia's words kept echoing in her ears. Yet, not even her own mother-in-law, the woman who treated her as her own daughter (or at least would say so), could not save her from Cronus's violence. Every time she looked into her eyes, those amazing grey eyes, she could feel Gaia telling her, reminding her, that divorce was not an option. She could not survive as a disgraced and humiliated woman. Not in the 1950s. She'd have no other choice but to live off as a prostitute. Her, a woman of such noble birth... The Crown Princess, who had already given four children to the nation...

She didn't think twice. Grabbing the scissors, she brought it closer to her hair. Those long dark locks that she had always been so proud of. Next thing she knew, they were lying on the floor. She saw them as they fell, not daring to look at her reflexion in the mirror. As if she had ashamed her husband. His family. Her children.

She gasped at the sight. Her emerald eyes looked bigger, greener. Her lips looked fuller, her face rounder. And she looked like a prisoner in silk. What she had felt like all along.

 _Until they grow back, you will be a strong, healthy baby, away from this life,_ she whispered again. She deserved to have at least one baby by her side. To watch it play, run, and grow. To teach him what a wonderful place the world was. To show him all the flowers, all the insects, the water drops, the colours of the sky, the shapes of the clouds...

Him...

A son.

That would keep her away from harm. An unlikely protector, that would take revenge his mother's maltreatment. That would reunite the family. That would be the rightful King and fix what Cronus had broken.

* * *

She told Cronus that she had to visit her parents. He let her.

Gaia had helped her, of course. He would never dare defy his own mother. No son ever did. She was like a primitive goddess that they ought to worship. Four days later, Rhea arrived to Crete.

"We have a goat," the two trusted farm women said. "She is strong, healthy and stubborn as a mule. She will provide his milk." She knew she could not stay on that island forever. Four months after she had given birth to Zeus in a cave, all on her own, she returned to Athens. When Cronus found out she had returned without the baby, he demanded to know what had become of it at once.

Rhea burst into crocodile tears. Good for her, Cronus could not tell the difference.

"She died," she said. "She was born two months early. She survived only for three months. She is buried in my parents' backyard, underneath the rose bush."

A girl... Another daughter. Another dowry to be given and another royal groom to be found. Another country lost. All because his wife could not handle yet another pregnancy!

He tried to make up for the loss. His nightly visits increased. But Cronus didn't know that his wife had discovered a special tea, which she drank every morning after each of his intrusions, to avoid another conception. One of the maids had told her about a special kind of flower with that effect. The maid's sister had tried it herself; she was working as a seamstress and her husband was a factory worker. They already had three children and very little money. Yet, clinging on to each other had been their only source of joy in that terrible, terrible life.

* * *

But Rhea was not poor. Not compared to the vast majority of her husband's future subjects. Little Zeus had brought joy back into her life, he had filled her heart with all that love that had gone to waste all those years, and she was receiving news of him nearly every week. She paid those Cretan farm women a generous amount of money for his upbringing and she had even asked them to have some men they could trust guard him, in case someone ever questioned his paternity. For three years, Zeus' existence remained a secret. The whole of Crete knew about that orphan that the farm women had found and whom they raised together with all the other men in the village, one big, unusual, happy family. And about the boy's love to the goat Amaltheia and how he would read to her. And about a mysterious lady's visits every three to six months. She'd arrive on an empty boat at a deserted port around midnight. From there, she'd go straight to that village, carrying gifts for the boy. Toys, candy, even clothes! Expensive fabrics, fit for a prince.

She must have been a crazy woman. Such a pity; she looked so young and pretty! For if she were sane, why would she persist on wearing a headscarf around her neck and a pair of sunglasses in the middle of the night? Gossip soon arose, with everyone guessing the odd woman's identity. "She reminds me of that song," some would say, "about that young girl gone mad of a broken heart." A tune everyone was familiar with. About a woman who was so mesmerized by sea shores and sunsets that she lost her mind. Like the girl in the song, she, too, appeared every night and disappeared at the break of dawn.

Until, one day, Cronus found out.

He had sent guards to go to Crete and find his wife. "And don't you dare come back without the boy!"

Alive or dead. He didn't care anymore.

He demanded to speak to his wife first thing. Rhea showed up with four-year-old Zeus by her side. She was hiding him behind her body, to protect him from his father's wrath. But the little boy, curious as he was, was sneaking out his head from behind his mother's long legs. He had never seen a man like that before. Looking that old, dressed in such funny clothes, with a long, weird thing hanging from his neck, and standing behind a rectangle furniture that looked like a tree, only smoother, hitting his hand on it so forcefully that the glass on it would break.

Matter of fact, everything around him was weird. The room was bright and clean; there were big stairs and carpets; shiny floors called "marble", and many funny big people with black and white uniforms, running all over the place. The city was big and loud and he had never been in one of those loud things called "cars" before. Now, he saw them everywhere. It was a magical world, and now he had met its master.

He took a good, long look at him.

There was no doubt about it. Cronus could see it in the boy's eyes. They had the exact same colour. The very same chin. The look of determination and authority fit only for royalty.

He had been wrong to question Rhea's loyalty and integrity. Her son was no one else's but his. He had yet another son.

Yet another son!

A useless creature that would be no use to him. That could never enter politics or even claim the throne. No, he already had an heir and a spare. He did not need a third one!

He slapped Rhea. Hard. He let out all of his fury. Rhea felt an excruciating pain all over her face. She could taste blood. It was meant to scare her, but it only made her brave enough to say what she had in mind. To let years of abuse out.

"Don't you dare touch me again," she said, calmly, gripping her son's shoulders and pushing him behind her. To safety. She was no longer afraid. Of no one. She had her son with her. He gave her all the strength she needed. "And don't you dare take Zeus away from me as you have done with the rest of my children. I want to know where they are. I want to see them. I know you won't let me to, and I won't force you to. If you let me raise Zeus by myself. You will have no say in his upbringing, or his education. Everything he has to learn, he'll learn from me. I will keep my hair short, too."

Cronus was speechless. He kept looking at her, mouth agape. How dare that tiny wife of his calmly utter such shocking words! Cut her hair! And keep it that way!

He knew what that meant. He was no longer allowed to come to her room. She would keep her door locked if she had to. She'd protect her son with all her might. Her eyes, expressive as they were, were shining so bright that they scared him. As if he were a meek coward! Yet the deeper he looked into them, the more intensely he could feel the flames encircling his body, going out only after nothing was left of him, but ashes. Or until he drowned into that ocean, desperate for help yet too scared to ask for it.

Like she had done all those years.

But he couldn't know, of course. He didn't really have a heart in there to feel but to just keep him alive. So that he would, one day, become King. At least his own mother had been decent enough to understand her position...

He raised his hand again. But she bit him back:

"Don't you dare or I'll tell the world all about the children!"

The little ones that could not recognize her. The lady with the short hair and the knee-length dress looked nothing like the princess in her green ruby parure and expensive evening gown. She did not resemble the photograph their father had shown them at all. "Her name is Rhea," he'd tell them every time he showed it to them. "She's your mother. Don't ask about her. She's too busy for you."

Only Hestia and Demeter could remember her vividly. Hades and Poseidon were toddlers when their mother had "miscarried a baby girl and was left barren since", as their father had told them.

She had tired to connect with them. She wanted them to tell her all about them and the things they liked and disliked, and she told them the same about herself. But everytime she was looking into their eyes, she kept promising to herself that she would never tell them the truth. It would be for the their own good.

* * *

She kept her promise. Like a deep-buried secret. Her husband had made his dream come true, of course. He had become King. His father was already too sick to leave any hopes for recovery. The day of his funeral, Rhea appeared with all of her children in public for the first time. She was thirty-seven years old, yet felt much older than that. Ever since, she'd avoid evening galas like the plague, reducing her role as Queen to simply accompanying her husband in public occasions. Back then, no one asked any more from her but to play the wife. As long as they would never find out what had been going on behind closed doors.

It was amazing how much her daughters - especially Demeter - resembled her. Yet only Hestia and Hades had inherited her green eyes. All the others had the icy cold stare of their father. Except that they looked at her curiously, like a rare sight they had been expecting to see for years. Only to be disappointed by it. Yet, somehow, she managed to reunite with them. She told them all about her life, and they told her all about theirs. They kept weeping in each other's arms, apologizing for all those years of neglect and hating Cronus for keeping them apart from the most precious, sweetest person they had ever met. From deserting them from their own mother.

Yet, try as she might, Rhea could not stop Cronus from taking Demeter away from her. Her beloved youngest daughter had to marry the Crown Prince of Denmark. Demeter obeyed her father's wishes. As she had always done. Her devotion to her country and her family was mirrored in the sadness in her eyes. She would live the rest of her days as a Danish queen, in a country that looked nothing like home, because their fathers wished them to. "She needs to get married," Cronus had said, "to hide her sister's shame."

Hestia had refused to get married. She was not born to be someone's wife, as she had put it. Cronus panicked. His eldest child had obscure romantic attractions. She was unnatural! But Rhea knew better than that. She defended her daughter as much as she could. Cronus wouldn't hear her. He kept persisting that Hestia, too, would have to marry. That was her duty!

Then Zeus intervened. He was barely an adult at the time, but Cronus had already grown afraid of him. He had proven himself capable of great things and his father did not want to admit it. He did not want to marvel at Rhea's creation. Zeus was her own child. Cronus hated him for it. His son believed himself to be the defender of all the women in this family. First his mother, then his sisters.

Zeus had his reasons for it. For as long as he could remember himself, Rhea, Hestia, and Demeter had been the ones who had shown him the world. They had been his teachers and companions, the only people in the family who loved him unconditionally.

No one knew how he managed to convince Cronus that Hestia should not marry. They didn't care to ask either. In return, Hestia had promised to help Zeus become King.

It was the revenge Rhea had been dreaming of for years. What greater payback for all those years of abuse than to prove her husband wrong! To show him that he was not that unbeatable after all. As the years had gone by, she had convinced Zeus that his destiny had been to reign over the country one day. Cronus' pride had already suffered the first blow after Hades had announced he would happily forfeit his rights to the throne for one of his brothers. Rhea convinced her eldest son to wait. She was preparing the ground for the referendum. Hades would lose either way, but he would have to make the announcement after the results had been announced.

* * *

The day of Cronus' abdication, Rhea was all in white. The public would get the message. She was awfully happy that now, at long last, her husband was not her master. She had decided what she was going to do with the rest of her life years ago. She just had to wait for the right moment.

Three months after Zeus became King, Rhea came to see him with a request. She wanted to move back to Crete, to the house by the sea that she had bought ten years ago, secretly from everyone. A lovely little two-story white house with fuchsia fences and windows and a huge garden for her to plant her favourite flowers and trees in. A lovely, long-awaited and well-earned retreat from the world and the drama. To her most beloved place, which she ended up calling a home. She would never come back; not unless her son needed her.

* * *

But Rhea was disappointed in Zeus, too. Try as she might, she could not explain his uncontrollable love for women. It all started when he was a teenager. Every week, he would be spotted with a different girl, each one prettier than the previous one. Slowly, he began to abandon his schoolwork. His professors were awfully disappointed in him. He had always been an excellent student, yet now he seemed more interested in partying and womanizing. Rhea asked him to stop, until he finished school at least. True to his word, he graduated top of his class and managed to get accepted at the University of Oxford on his own merit. But he had turned down the position, prompting for the University of Athens instead. He believed that no member of the Royal Family should study abroad, as long as they had a decent educational system in their home country.

Over a year later, his womanizing urges returned. Rhea could not keep track. She suspected that most of those girls were his companions just for one night and that he was never interested in a serious relationship. But he would have to settle down eventually. The more girls he saw, the harder it would be for him to devote himself to just one wife. Cronus did not see how that could be an issue. "He's a man. He needs experiences."

Maybe it was the flow of the times. The 1970s were the era of liberation, anarchy, and the break from tradition. Greece was changing rapidly, as if rushing to catch up with the rest of Europe. The Greeks were first introduced to the television some twenty years after it had made its first appearance in the U.S.. As you would expect, they were eager to find out what was going on behind those Palace walls and they were starting to turn their Princes and Princesses into celebrities. Hestia and Hades immediately despised the idea. Demeter embraced it at first, until she realized that celebrity equaled the loss of her privacy and she shut the door to them. They were left simply with Poseidon and Zeus. Their handsomeness, energy, and success with women made them a far more interesting subject than the middle-aged and distant King and Queen. Perhaps it was about time for Rhea to catch up with the times as well.

In 1977, Queen Gaia passed away due to old age. The same year, Zeus was named the Crown Prince after the much-discussed referendum. Three months prior, however, he had attended a garden party at an 18th-century country mansion in Surrey. The hosts were Oceanus and Tethys, of Greek and Cypriot descent but based in England. His parents knew them well. Oceanus was one of the few tycoons who had managed to become famous worldwide, while still promoting and honoring his home country in any way he could. His wife, Tethys, was a lovely Cypriot woman of extraordinary beauty. The two had a lot of children, a huge fleet, and an incomparable amount of wealth. Their nineteen-year-old daughter, Dione, caught Zeus' eye almost immediately.

She was slightly shorter than him, with gorgeous long blond hair that ended to her waist and the most perfectly structured face Zeus had ever laid eyes on. Her blue-grey eyes commanded respect as well as admiration for their rare colour. Even though she was wearing the ugliest floral gown with the longest sleeves he had ever seen, she was beautiful. He didn't know how long he had been staring at her, finding himself unable to speak for the first time in his life. She was laughing with six other girls over some dirty jokes, smoking weed and drinking whiskey from the bottle. Yet her impeccable manners and the way she held her body gave away her aristocratic upbringing. A lady-like tomboy. Zeus loved the sound of that.

She noticed him soon enough. "What are you staring at?" she spat.

He didn't know how he managed to summon up the courage to walk up to her. Once he was close enough, he said the most interesting thing he could come up with: "I have a dysfunctional family."

The other girls burst out laughing. Dione kept staring at him with a puzzled look on her face and a faint smile on her lips. She couldn't tell if he was a weirdo or just drunk. But he was certainly the world's worst flirt.

"Are you one of ten?"

Zeus was caught off guard: "Pardon?"

"How many siblings do you have?"

He was still confused: "Four."

"Your family's fine," she replied, bringing the cigarette back to her lips.

He got the message. He was not welcome there. Yet, he had one last card to play.

"I am the Prince of Greece!"

She choked on the smoke. That trick always worked!

" _The_ Prince? Whatever became of your brothers?"

Her friends began to laugh and tease him. He walked away. He could not stand being humiliated by a bunch of drunk teenage girls.

The same evening, he asked his private secretary to gather as many information on Dione as possible. Two days later, he knew almost everything about her. She was the Oceanus and Tethys' fifth child out of ten and their third daughter; she was studying Journalism and Art History in London; she was a straight-A student; her favourite hobbies were dancing, playing the piano, and photographing landscapes; her mother and older sisters were considered the 'fashion icons' of the family but she had other things to worry about; she often holidayed in Cyprus where she liked to visit the Akamas peninsula and take pictures of the rare flowers there. Yet, hard as he tried to contact her, she would always manage to hide from him.

But Fate had other plans. Four months later and having secured his future as the next king, he began his postgraduate studies at the University of Athens. One day, as he was walking along the corridor to get to class, he heard a loud yet elegant laughter. It was her! She had transferred from London to Athens because her father persisted, as she later told him. "It has nothing to do with you or your title. It has to do with my Greek. I need to improve it," she explained.

"Your Greek is fine," he replied. "As if you have never spent a day in England!"

Perhaps he was being too forward but he didn't care. Sometimes, that was a way to draw a woman's attention. But she was more experienced than she had led him to believe: "Oh, you!"

* * *

Their relationship was announced six months later. The day before, Rhea and Cronus were introduced to her for the first time over a private dinner at the Royal Palace. Dione's outspokenness stunned her. When Cronus had asked her what she thought of the Palace, Dione described it as an "old and soulless" place that "lacked warmth." Rhea hid her face behind the napkin, trying very hard to hide her grin. She could not have agreed more!

Nevertheless, everything seemed to be happening too fast with that girl. Before she even knew it, Dione was treated like a movie star in Greece. Soon enough, the foreign media took wind of the gorgeous royal couple and they began to photograph Zeus and Dione continuously, presenting them as the "perfect" modern royal couple. As for them, they were all too glad to show the world how happy they were they were and how much they enjoyed life and each other's company.

Her parents' impeccable reputation might have also contributed to Dione's fame. But her personality was her greatest asset. She was the perfect enigma. Realist yet optimistic, not the fashion icon but still praised for her looks, someone who enjoyed giving directions but not commands...

Yet she had a hard time settling in her role as a royal. Perhaps Dione might have been unable to see it, but Rhea could already see the signs. She was feeling ashamed and humiliated by the rules and the obligations she had to abide by. Once, in private, she described the prospect of becoming queen as "nightmarish". Yet she persisted on learning the ropes and trying as much as possible to improve herself because she loved Zeus. A lot. Rhea could see it in her eyes. A person's stare always revealed the truth about them.

Two years went by like that. Everyone seemed to have settled into the same, boring routine. But in the early spring of 1980, Rhea couldn't help noticing a change in Dione. All of a sudden, she seemed awfully absentminded and she got more easily irritable. Rhea had decided to put her through the test. "You seem to have put on some weight, dear. It suits you!"

Suddenly, Dione pushed back her chair. Rhea asked her what was wrong but she simply shook her head and tried to laugh it away. But soon later, she gave in. "I'm pregnant. Zeus knows. I'm keeping it."

Rhea didn't know what to say. Only six months prior, she had been stunned to find out that Zeus and Dione had been living as a married couple. Zeus knew that, at some point, he would have to make his relationship official. He had no other choice. The nation needed a royal wedding; the law demanded a marriage. Nevertheless, she got up and congratulated Dione with a big smile on her face.

Her first ever grandchild!

They announced their engagement almost immediately. Two weeks later, Dione also revealed her pregnancy. She was beginning to show, after all, so why the need to keep it a secret? Rhea was getting all the more excited. Her life was good! Soon enough, she would become a grandmother. Zeus would become King. She could move back to Crete, away from dreadful place!

Cronus refused to consent to the marriage, but neither Zeus nor Dione seemed to mind. The government was on their side and so was Rhea. The King's opinion did not really matter at that point. That only seemed to infuriate Cronus further.

The wedding took place on 23 July 1980, at the same Cathedral Cronus and Rhea had gotten married in thirty-four years prior. Once more, another royal wedding was marked as the event of the decade. The couple's families were thrilled, the people of Athens were in the streets to celebrate, people all over the country stayed at home to watch it form their TV sets...

Cronus joined the latter group. He had refused to come, issuing a statement instead that he was "indisposed". How funny... The same excuse he had used to excuse his wife's absences in the past came to his own rescue.

Dione's wedding gown was not as extravagant or as well-detailed as Rhea's. She had chosen a simple white silk gown, baggy enough to hide the belly (she was six months pregnant by that time), yet elegant enough to be fitting for the occasion. Following on her mother-in-law's footsteps, Rhea gave her Queen Gaia's veil and tiara. Dione couldn't help admiring her gifts. She couldn't help marveling at how a piece of fabric could withstand the test of time and still be as magnificent as the first time it had been worn. Foreign dignitaries, crowned heads of Europe, and powerful businessmen were among the guests.

But Rhea did not enjoy the ceremony as much as everyone else did. Since early in the day, she kept searching for bad omens. Ostensibly, there were none. It was a time of peace and political stability, the country was strong financially, Zeus and Dione were in love and expecting their first child, the nation was thrilled at the prospect of a new heir...

It was meant to be.

 _Yet, no danger is clear at first glance._

Rhea knew that better than anyone. She had not slept a wink that night. A voice in her kept telling her that the harmony would not last for long.

She prepared for the worst. But she was looking at the wrong enemy all along.

* * *

Dione stepped into her new role as the Crown Princess better than Rhea had expected. As if she had left the little whining girl in the past and was now determined to make as much of her new life as possible.

Yet, she worked too hard. Rhea could understand that Dione wanted to do charity work, but she also had a baby to think of. She would not reveal if she hoped it was a boy or a girl. As long as the parents had a happy and stable marriage, the gender was but an insignificant detail. If they did not succeed the first time, they could try again.

Still, Dione ought to be careful. She could not volunteer as much as she wanted, not with the baby due in two months. Planting trees, touching animals, and visiting hospitals were out of the question.

"Wait until the baby is born," Rhea suggested. "Then you can do all the work you want." She had even asked Tethys to speak her about it, too. Dione obliged. She had no other choice. Yet, the more her pregnancy advanced, the more energetic she would feel. As if the baby wanted her to keep busy. How could she explain that paradox to women who had all of their children at the luxury of their lavish homes?

The baby was due in two weeks when Zeus announced that he and Dione would be going to Cyprus on a state visit. Rhea tried to change their minds, to convince them that it would be dangerous for Dione to fly in her state.

"We will travel with the _Thalatta_ , Mother," Zeus reassured her. "The worst thing that can happen in that case is Dione giving birth on board."

Aphrodite was born on 22 October 1980 in Paphos. Her name meant "she who rises from the sea foam." Dione had come up with it for two reasons. First, her waters had broken right where the wave would touch the shore, creating the small foam. Second Aphrodite came out of the womb covered in white foam. Rhea thought that her son had been joking when he told her the details. Zeus rushed to explain at once. He kept going on about how the mayor of Paphos and his wife took them to a magnificent sea stuck, Dione removed her shoes and walked along the coastline, then the mayor took them to the hospital, and about sixteen hours later, the little girl was born. The doctor had kept examining her for hours to see why she was born into a layer of foam and if she was all right.

 _Like the caterpillar turning into a butterfly_.

When she told Cronus, she omitted the part about the hospital. It was breaking a tradition as old as time. Up until then, all members of the Royal Family were born in Palaces. Cronus was not thrilled at having a granddaughter. He described Dione "a failure" and compared her story to Rhea's.

Yet those were two completely different women. So was Aphrodite. Each would have their own story to tell. And her granddaughter would live the most incredible life of all.

When she first held the little girl in her hands, Rhea shed a tear. Her granddaughter looked like a perfect angel, with her mother's looks, her father's eyes and chin, and Rhea's porcelain skin. At fifty-five, the Queen's face seemed to have been left untouched by the tricks of time. Her face looked as youthful as it did when she was thirty, without being marred by wrinkles that would be a constant reminder of the long years of abuse.

Then the storm came.

* * *

Something in Zeus had changed. Rhea could not blame it on the sudden realization that he was now a parent. She begged Hestia to keep a close eye on him and to reveal nothing to Dione. She wouldn't like to make her daughter-in-law nervous without any proof.

Hestia told her what was wrong three weeks later. "Zeus has a mistress. She is about seven months along. It's his."

Her name was Metis and Zeus was obsessed with her. Quite possibly, in love, too. Rhea could not believe it. Her little boy, the son she had raised herself... he was a cheater. He did not care at all for his wife or his six-month-old daughter. And she was having his child!

Two days later, she confronted him in the Palace of Tatoi. She didn't want them to have that conversation at Gaia's Palace in Psychiko, that had become his and Dione's marital home. She wouldn't feel comfortable to have that conversation with him knowing that his daughter was sleeping in a nearby room.

After she had explained to him the reason for their meeting, she asked him straight away. "Is it true?"

Zeus avoided her gaze. He was staring at the floor, not quite knowing how to answer. He could see the disappointment drawn all over her face. Were she more similar to her husband, she'd have hit him. But Rhea never laid a hand on her children. Violence was never the solution.

"You will have to tell your wife."

"Moth-"

"If you don't, I will!"

She thought that it would pass, that it was just a bad moment. Hopeless as that notion might have been, it did keep her sane enough to go on keeping that secret. Until one letter, an anonymous letter arrived.

Dione had found it in Aphrodite's crib. So, it was written by someone in the household or the family. But the handwriting could not reveal the identity of its author. It was written in plain, capital letters. It could have been anyone.

Her hands were trembling uncontrollably. Rhea helped her sit down, offered her a glass of water, and took the letter from her hands. She read it.

It stated that Zeus had been seeing other women since the time he had began to date Dione. Metis and her pregnancy were mentioned there, along with what Zeus intended to do. He would not divorce his wife and he would not acknowledge the child. If she dared come out and accuse him of neglecting his child, he would have her arrested.

Zeus had written that letter. It was his way of telling his wife. The written statement of his guilt and his way to beg for forgiveness. But Dione did not seem that generous. She kept murmuring names and curse words. She had made up her mind about her next steps. She would file for divorce. Rhea read further.

A name was mentioned which Rhea had not heard of before.

Hera.

The goddaughter of Tethys and Oceanus. The little girl Tethys told her they would sometimes take care of, while her parents were away on foreign trips.

One of Dione's closest friends.

Perhaps Zeus wanted to divorce his wife as much as she did. Rhea wanted to ask if something else had occurred between them, but then Dione would think she was siding with her son. The truth was different for everyone. Having already seen Zeus' perspective, she also wanted to know Dione's.

"I dreamed of a different life, I guess. Away from all this. And a happier marriage."

"Then go for it."

She would not do what Queen Gaia had done. She would not pretend to be acting motherly towards her daughters-in-law while she was stubbing the knife deeper in their tender skin.

Dione was free to go if she so wished. Rhea would gladly wish her all the best.

* * *

Athena was born before Zeus and Dione's divorce was finalized. The news had come as a surprise to everyone across the country. The glamorous, fairytale young couple with the angelic baby girl... were to be no more.

A year. That's how long their marriage lasted. Just plenty of time for Aphrodite to be born into wedlock so that her rights to the throne would be secured.

Athena's future was not so certain. Her mother contracted a serious infection during the delivery and she passed away a few hours later. She had not even managed to hold her baby in her arms. Rhea asked about any other family Athena might have had. They could find nothing. As if Metis was born an orphan.

But Dione was generous. She convinced Zeus to acknowledge the baby girl and to make her a Princess. She was, after all, the only parent he had.

Two days later, Dione left for Cyprus. Aphrodite was with her.

Cronus sent the Greek authorities after her at once. As if she had committed a crime! All she wanted was to spend a few days with her daughter at her favourite island. She would certainly not wish to be accused of kidnapping her own child!

Whom was she kidding? Cronus had not changed at all.

Dione was brought back to Greece with a much gentler way than Rhea had done. The day of her and Aphrodite's return to Athens, Rhea took out of the handkerchief that midwife had given her all these years ago. If it was meant to be a lucky charm, it had better work its magic today. She did not want to lose her granddaughter. But she did not want to separate a mother and her child either.

She was told the conclusions Dione and Zeus had reached a few hours later. Until the divorce was finalized, they would play the married couple for the nation, the world, even their own family. But after everything was said and done, each would go on their separate ways. Zeus was free to remarry whenever he pleased; Dione would be given a mansion in Corinth and the right to see her daughter as often as she pleased. They would have joint custody of her. However, due to her status, Aphrodite would have to spend more time with her royal relatives.

Zeus' popularity suffered. Some politicians had suggested that Poseidon was made the Crown Prince instead, but at the time, he had been busier chasing after Amphitrite. His initial proposition to Dione, to separate quietly, lead separate lives, and settle the custody debate with the help of their lawyers, did not agree with his wife's wishes.

"Either we divorce or we go on fooling ourselves. But I don't want Aphrodite to grow up knowing that our marriage is but an illusion."

They did not speak to each other for three months after they signed the divorce certificate. Still, somehow, they managed to put their differences aside and to remain on friendly terms. For Aphrodite's sake. Rhea admired them for it tremendously.

How times had changed indeed!

* * *

Zeus ended up marrying his mistress, after all. As Rhea later discovered, Hera had been his faithful companion throughout his first marriage as well. A shoulder to cry on. A partner in crime.

A vain opportunist.

Rhea could not fathom how a woman could have been so vile. To be sleeping with her best friend's husband and destroy his marriage, while she acted all perfectly conservative and devoted to tradition.

Cronus liked her.

Rhea begged to differ. Only she knew the whole truth about their affair. Zeus had confided everything in her from the very beginning. Shocked as she was to find it all out, she had given her blessing for their wedding. She just wished, hoped, that Hera would put an end to Zeus' womanizing games.

He had proposed to his mistress three times. She turned him down twice, telling him that "she was not meant for that life." But Zeus could not see that. She was every inch his queen. Smart; beautiful; stylish; elegant. He figured that a woman like her would not say 'yes' unless she was tricked into it somehow. The third time he proposed, Hera, tired of the endless circle of turning him down, breaking up with him, then making up, replied instead that she would think about it. The way Zeus saw it, there was nothing to consider.

He issued an engagement announcement on the same day. There would be no way Hera could refuse him after the whole world had known. It was broadcast in the evening news. Hera was furious. Zeus persisted: "She will be all right."

Rhea had given Hera her blessing and one of her diamond rings as a gift. After she had stood up to Cronus decades ago, he had tried to make her bend again by buying her expensive gifts. She had the most impressive array of jewelery - from sapphire and ruby tiaras to heavy diamond rings and the most extraordinary earrings and bracelets that the world had seen. Rhea hardly wore them. She had felt like Cronus had used them as a trick to "buy" her again and she would not fall into his trap. She had grown too smart for that. She kept them in a secure place instead. She would give half of them to Aphrodite and half of them to Athena. If Zeus and Hera had daughters too, she would give them the least extravagant ones out of the collection intended for her two eldest granddaughters. It was tradition.

Hera did not complain about not receiving Queen Gaia's veil and tiara as a wedding gift. Rhea had told her that they belonged to Dione, for she was the first wife. They would be kept somewhere safe and preserved with the finest of care until the day of Aphrodite's wedding. The future Queen did not put up a fight. She respected the Royal Family's wishes, or so she said. How could Rhea trust someone like her?

Their wedding was a far more lavish affair than the one of Zeus and Dione. For one thing, Cronus was no longer "indisposed" but instead stood tall and proud, happy that his son had finally settled down - or so the world believed. Once again, the guest list included the most powerful people in the world. The women's jewels sparkled under the light of the chandelier while the crowds in the streets begged to see the new Crown Princess. They liked how she had "chosen" not to wear a veil - like so many other brides would do. Even her wedding gown was relatively simple but extravagant enough. Even though it was A-line and made entirely out of silk, it had no other decoration other than the embroidered belt around her waist, made of golden thread. No jewelery. She knew her number on the list.

Rhea's favourite part about the ceremony was little Aphrodite. Athena had also attended, but she sat down quietly between Hestia and Demeter, whereas her older half-sister could not stand still for a mere second. At three years old, she was the liveliest little girl Rhea had ever seen. Throughout the two-hour-long ceremony, Aphrodite was dancing and running around, amazed by the sparkling jewelery of the other women in attendance. To keep her quiet, Rhea held her in her arms and began to whisper a story to her ear until suddenly, Aphrodite removed her pacifier and began to shout, "Grandma! Ducks, ducks, ducks!" as soon as the priest pronounced Zeus and Hera husband and wife.

Her high-pitched voice echoed all over the church. Everyone smiled and some guests even burst out laughing.

 _This one will be quite the handful,_ Rhea thought.

And she was glad she was proven right.

* * *

Rhea's happiest day arrived a week later. At long last, she was free.

Her children were not surprised to find out that she had decided to leave her husband. They knew that their parents were practically strangers to one another, communicating only via their private secretaries. The final blow had come during the military dictatorship. During their self-imposed exile in London, Cronus had tried to make a counter-coup and take back control of his country. After it had failed, he had blamed it all on Rhea. From the Junta to his shortcomings as King. She had called him a failure to his face. It had been the worst fight they had ever had and Rhea had threatened to divorce him. She hadn't known how she had summoned up the courage to do so. She had never really intended to leave him. She had hardly had a penny to herself. Queen Gaia had largely stayed out of their disputes. She had no longer known who to side with.

Rhea had decided to leave him for good the first chance she got. The day they returned to Greece in 1974, she set her plan in action: Cronus had to go.

He was all too happy to let her go. At that point, he was convinced that he had married a madwoman.

There would be no official announcements and her address would not become known to anyone except them. She would spend the rest of her days in the tranquility of her favourite island, far away from the noise of Athens and the machinations of politics. However, as far as the world would be concerned, Rhea was living at her parents-in-law's former Palace at Psychiko.

Zeus persisted that she needed to have security and a small staff with her. Rhea agreed. She could not fool herself. She was not getting any younger. Even though she was still extremely healthy, age would slowly begin to catch up with her. If anything happened to her, she needed someone there to help.

Only her most trusted servants came with her. She wouldn't want to live in the same house with people she did not like, not anymore. The oldest member of that team was fifty-five years old and the youngest almost twenty. Zeus approved.

Two weeks later, she was living an entirely different life. A far happier one.

* * *

Zeus and Hera's reign had started in the most glorious of terms. They were young and he was nothing like his father. The nation adored him. He was honest enough to apologize publicly for his "indiscretions" and to take full responsibility of Athena. If only he would be able to keep his desires under control, he would become the greatest king of all.

The future seemed bright enough. Aphrodite was appointed the Crown Princess; Zeus and Hera had adopted a six-year-old boy as an act of goodwill; Eris and Eileithyia were born. She kept the pictures of her grandchildren on her nightstand. Every two weeks, she would receive letters from them where they wrote everything that they would have liked to tell her if she had been in Athens. Aphrodite's favourite colour was blue and she was an excellent swimmer; Athena was reading everything that fell in her hands; Eris was the one with the most tantrums; Eileithyia was awfully quiet. Rhea traveled back to Athens for a few days after they were born, to hold them in her hands as much as she could and be photographed with them.

The facade of a big, happy family.

Poseidon and Demeter had their own children, too. Demeter had given Greek names to her children, even though they were members of the Danish Royal Family. Persephone was her spitting image. She would send her mother an awful lot of portraits of her family, tell her how "dreadful" the cold Danish winters were, and she promised she would come and visit the first chance she got. She always kept her promise.

Poseidon and Amphitrite got married at a private ceremony in Tinos. Only friends and family attended, as had been Amphitrite's wishes. A few years later, they, too, had their own children.

Zeus and Poseidon did not get along well. Poseidon was jealous of his younger brother for earning the throne and for having the "perfect" family that he went on and married a woman whose life paralleled Dione's. She, too, was the daughter of an affluent businessman and had too many siblings. Both were blue-eyed blonds too, a very rare thing for a Greek. But Poseidon now was involved in his father-in-law's business. He had taken over years ago and cherished it enough to let it thrive - like Zeus had done with the whole country. Zeus had introduced the age of prosperity. The Greek economy seemed to be thriving. The people were earning higher salaries. The Royal Family was no longer looked down upon.

But the two were more similar than they cared to admit. Both were thirsty for power and had no idea how to treat women. Time and again, Rhea would find out about their latest "indiscretions". Rumours of them visiting strip clubs and having mistresses shocked Rhea a lot, but she would not intervene in their marriages. Their wives were old and independent enough to figure out what was best for them.

Neither of them wanted to divorce them. Rhea did not ask why. Hera loved Zeus enough to keep on fighting for him. She had confessed to Rhea that she was crying herself to sleep every night, knowing all too well that her husband might be in the hands of another woman. Zeus even fathered a few children with them, yet when he tried to bring up the subject, Rhea had told him she would like nothing to do with them. "You already have a wife and children. They are all waiting for you to understand that." Yet, Hera insisted. He had to acknowledge the children. They were his own flesh and blood, after all. Rhea had forced her to make a promise. She would go after his mistresses as much as she wanted, as long as she would not harm the children. It was not their fault that they were born, after all. Rhea respected her tremendously for keeping her promise. Eventually, she had come to love Hera as her own daughter. They both knew the hardships of enduring and the pain of neglect. They may have been different in form, yet they hurt the same.

At least Poseidon was discreet. Even if he had children with other women, he did not make it known. Amphitrite, too, seemed to be more confident than her sister-in-law. "If he loves me, he'll come back to me." He always did.

Both her sons knew better than to destroy their marriages.

Rhea had never known the feeling of betrayal. Cronus might have been a terrible person, but he had never cheated on her. Yet, that did not make Rhea hurt less every time she remembered him.

Over the past decade, Rhea had slowly started to forget little details about her husband. The sound of his voice, his domineering presence, his terrifying stare... As if he was slowly decaying from her memory.

Rhea did not write to him. Not even once. In those twenty-three years that she had fled Athens and the Royal Court, she promptly avoided anything that had to do with her husband of some fifty years. "I'll see him again only when he's dead," she had told her children. "I will have to attend his funeral, after all."

It was the much-awaited catharsis. She was no longer haunted by him.

* * *

And now there they were, standing on port, her wrinkled hand in the tender one of her daughter-in-law and the other holding her little suitcase. She didn't need much. She'd only stay for a few days anyway.

The _HGMY Thalatta_ had already docked. The sailors had unfolded the staircase and tried to hide their awe. There she was, the Queen they had all heard about, yet no one had seen in years. She looked shorter than they had imagined. But definitely not frail, as they had been told by His Majesty's private secretaries. And not at all sick.

Poseidon took the first step. "Shall we, Mother?"

Amphitrite held her hand tighter.

"Yes," Rhea said. "I am prepared."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: In this chapter, I return to the drama with Aphrodite, Ares, Zeus, and Hera. Except that in the middle of this chapter (literally), I introduce Amphitrite and Poseidon, to make the connection with the previous chapter. I couldn't find much information on Amphitrite, so I took many artistic liberties with her, but I still try to keep her faithful to her mythological counterpart. You don't have to read her part unless you want some background info on her and Poseidon and to get a glimpse into the life of some minor members of the RF. And talking of liberties, I am basing the relationship between Dione and Aphrodite on the sole scene we have of the two in the _Iliad_. I am trying to keep their closeness that Homer had envisioned for them but, frankly, it's hard to create a close mother/daughter relationship based on one single scene.  
**

 **Once again, here are some more fun facts to make your reading easier:**

 **1) Porto Heli is a small coastal town at the Argolic Gulf, a short distance from the island of Spetses. It's a famous summer resort for celebrities, politicians, tycoons, and it's the currently residence of the actual former GRF. I just thought that, since Poseidon and Amphitrite are sea deities, they would want to be somewhere like that.  
**

 **2) Tinos: the largest temple of Poseidon and Amphitrite was located on that island. Nowadays it is known as a famous place for prayer for the Greek Orthodox community and, even though Tinos also has a large Roman Catholic population, the believers of the two dogmas co-exist peacefully (that sounded weird but you get the point).**

 **3) Naxos: According to Eustathius, Poseidon first saw Amphitrite dancing at the island of Naxos along with her sisters. Naxos does have a sailing nautical club, but the races bit is fictional.  
**

 **4) Cyclades: they consist of over 220 islands in the Aegean (for the record, Greece has 6,000 islands. 227 of them are inhabited) but the major ones are way fewer than that. I won't catalog them all here but Mykonos, Santorini, Naxos, and Tinos belong to that island group.**

 **5) T** ** **he actual Greek royal yacht was, in fact, called _Amphitrite_. But since she was launched in the 1900s, she has been long scrapped now, I believe.  
****

 **P.S. The next chapter will be exclusively Ares/Aphrodite/Hephaestus because I want to write it in a way that does not allow any third story lines to interrupt the flow of the action between the three. In short, prepare yourselves :P**

* * *

 _17 December 2006_

 _Hotel GB, Royal Suite_

 _10:00 A.M._

I need the earth to stop moving for a minute. Just one. I know. It's impossible. But I do need just a few moments to myself without new troubles appearing every two seconds.

My biggest issue at the moment is Ares. Since he left, this place has felt emptier than he had found it. Odd as it may sound, his mere presence, his unpredictability, the adrenaline of having to hide him, and my effort to resist my deepest desires breathed life into this cold, stuffy room, even for a day. I can still hear the sound of his footsteps as he made his way to the door, before leaving. He didn't look back, didn't ask me if this was my final decision, didn't return demanding justice... He just... walked away. And left me behind, feeling even more confused that I had been before...

Whatever it is that is meant to happen between us, it had better happen fast. I have had enough of our foolish games.

But as if that were not enough, I received the news early this morning that Father would like to see me. Here. In the study. And I have to pretend like everything in my life is as normal as he thinks it is.

It's already bad enough that every single day starting with a visit from Zeus Almighty in all his glory is doomed to be a terrible one. What is worse, he arranged to come here in what would have been my bath time. My hair looks awful and he will use it against me. Say, I did it to spite him, making myself unattractive on purpose. But to tell you the truth, I could not give a flying damn about Hephaestus. Especially not after all that has happened. I know where my heart lies. I may not like it, but there is nothing I can do. I am drawn to the enigmas and the troubles. I don't have time for any other trifles.

Look, if His Majesty is so eager to make him a member of this family, he should seriously consider marrying him himself. It's not like he doesn't know his way around men at this point. Or inside, for that matter. Yes, I know. No respectable daughter should utter such vulgar words about her father. Well, I agree, but you know what the say. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all, does it?

I just keep watching him as he sits on the desk, a glass of brandy in his hand, acting as if he owns the place. Maybe he does. He must have done something to be so broke that he's auctioning off all of his daughters of marriageable age. Athena had better be next.

Oh! I forgot. She's just too _precious_ to him...

Still, for the life of me, I don't know why he is asking for my help on such an important issue when she's only a phone call away.

Apparently, some original antiquities and other works of art have been stolen from the Grand Salon and other rooms of the Royal Palace, the NIS is at it, every single servant in there suspect their colleagues, Hera used to be nervous over it until Ares arrived and she found herself a new hobby, and Zeus pretended to be stupid but now he knows more than he's letting on. Somehow, the 'usual suspects' managed to get themselves tangled amidst this chaos as well. It certainly sounds like them. They can hardly keep away from it. Either it chases them or they have chased it.

And now, Mr. Thunder here wants to find out which is the case here. It's both. Can I leave now?

"Do you know who those so-called friends of yours are into?"

Of course. I befriended them to make me the troublemaker. But I cannot tell him that. He seems my remaining silent and folding my arms as some sort of approval. True to his soliloquy, he adds:

"Then you must be aware of their... connections. Some of them are associated with the Mafia, either via their families or in person. Others belong to the Communist Party Youth to defy their wealthy parents, others are making a fortune as drug dealers..."

I shrug my shoulders and sigh. To Father, this is a sign of annoyance and thus a cue for him to explain himself:

"I am asking all those questions, Aphrodite, because I am worried about you. I need to know the likes of people that form your social circle. I would not want for your safety or your integrity as the future head of this country to be put to danger."

That's putting it mildly. First, Father has known about them for years. He has been aware about their reputations and their families from the very first time I got into trouble with them and because of them. The very first time they nearly caused a scandal centered around me, I was sixteen years old, drunk, and asked to rob a junk food restaurant. I don't know if they had been the ones to have hired the paparazzi that took the pictures of me threatening the cashier with a fake gun in my hands, but I did end up in the news. It was one of the many adventures of mine with them.

In all fairness, I haven't even thought about them since they stole my dress and sold it in the black market. I'd have gotten them arrested, too, but then I'd create a scandal. Yet even that seems to be following them around like the plague.

Still, the question remains. Where has Father been during that decade? Worrying about his other children and chasing after mistress after mistress, that's where.

"I've told you," I reply, eager for this torture to end. "The last time I saw them was the night before the picture fiasco. I have never given them access to the Royal Palace, let alone information on the staff. I would never do that."

"I believe you," he says with a raised eyebrow and in a way that makes me understand the opposite of what he uttered. Thanks. A lot.

Standing up, he folds his arms too, and I unfold mine. This is all making me feel very uncomfortable. What is more, he is talking to me the same way he talks to the MPs. It keeps getting better.

"I am not questioning you to get to the bottom of things. I know the truth. It is all Hera's doing in order to get rid of Ganymede. But her mistake this time, was to make Eris involved in the whole process. Your sister got excited and her behaviour let it all away. The NIS suspects as much as well, so now we will push them to their limits until they can tell us where the items are. As for that boy, he will leave as soon as his internship ends."

Then he goes on about how his application for a full-time position has been turned down already on the grounds that he is 'unsuitable' (an old trick to save us money on salaries but still we have a few full-time servants). It's an entire soliloquy, so that's just the summary.

And then the 'usual suspects' strike again.

"I simply believed I should use this opportunity to conduct another investigation, a secret one so to speak, on your friends. Hera does not need to know about it. She will start saying how it is wrong for a father to spy on his own child and how this damages the trust there ought to exist between parent and child."

I never thought I would say this, but I actually agree with Hera for once. Yes, I'm just as surprised as you are. It's still creepy though. Both of them.

Now, wait a minute...

"Is this why you're marrying me off so quickly?" I snap.

Father looks at me, startled. Now everything has fallen into place. He thinks that marrying me off will fix everything, as if a simple wedding has all the power in the world to keep me out of trouble. How... old-fashioned of his!

"I can't believe this!" I add. "You don't want to get harmed, yet you marry me off to a man who cannot even stand without needing a stick to support him! He whimpers when he sits down, Father! And you trust this man to be my consort, t-the father of my children?!"

His Majesty remains silent. Surely he is aware of all those... flaws... of my intended. Hera must have also told him, time and again, that he will not make a good husband to me. To some other woman maybe, but not to me. I have neither the personality nor the role suitable to help make his life easier. Zeus Almighty will come to regret his decision in the end and I will remain married to Hephaestus because Father will be too stubborn to admit he has made a mistake.

How did I even find myself in the middle of all this?

Father approaches me, arms slightly open, waiting for me to just fall in his arms and cry on his shoulder. But I am no longer twelve years old. And he is no longer the godly figure I kept seeing him as.

"Aphrodite..."

He tries to sound comforting, but the way he pronounces my name hides other messages. His tone suggests 'I won't go through this again with you' or 'I am too tired to debate this' or 'please, not again...'. Sometimes I have to play a little guessing game to figure out which one he is suggesting. Today I don't. It's all three.

I take a step back. One more and my back will touch the wall. Father realizes that I don't want his pathetic display of affection. If he truly cared about me, he could have found other ways to protect me. It's not as if he cannot summon up all the security he needs just with a simple phone call. But if it's trouble he's asking for, it's trouble he will get.

"Fine!" I spat. "But if you want to know, I was never even tempted to try what they had to offer." I can tell by the look in his eyes that he does not believe a word I have said. But it's true. I love myself and my life a little too much to fall willingly into the deep. "I do have one question, though," I further. "Now that the NIS have made folders on them, what will you do with all that information? Threaten them? Forbid them to leave the country? Have their citizenship removed? Or just keep a closer eye on me because I make an easier pawn to play?"

I have drawn the line, but I don't care. Instinctively, he raises his hand, ever so slightly. As if he would hit me if he could. But he never hits women. Especially his own flesh and blood.

He remembers this rule right on time. As soon as he realizes what he was about to do, he fixes his jacket, angrily, and he shots a deadly glare at me.

"Just go to dinner," he says, sounding more frustrated than he intended. "And make sure you make him feel comfortable in the gala."

Splendid. How convenient for him to change the subject when he feels his selfishness threatened!

"For how long will I have to go on acting like it?" I mutter under my breath, yet loud enough for Father to hear.

"Until the wedding takes place," he replies.

"When is that going to be?"

"After you have realized that this is the only way."

For what?

I don't dare ask him that. I just want him to leave this place too. At least, Ares is easier to read. Far easier, in fact. But Father has a complicated way of thinking. He says he does everything for the good of his family and the country. Yet, often I feel that his legacy and his personal reputation are of a far greater importance to him than us. Why is he trying to change me into someone I will hate then, if that is not the case?

I try to hide my agitation the best way I can. If I let the tears flow, he'll just hold me in his arms and tell me more lies, such as that life with Hephaestus would not be that bad and he would make a fine husband. But I don't need any more lies or secrets. I want the truth for once. I want my life to return to the simple mess that it was.

Is it asking too much?

"If you tried to be realistic for just two seconds, you would stop whining and actually do something to make your life easier."

Simple for him to say. He cannot see the whole picture and, if I am lucky enough, he will never be able to.

He makes his way to the door. At long last. I just want to get into the shower and forget all about everyone for just a moment. Perhaps I will also manage to find a way out of all this. Water always helps me think more clearly. Funny, isn't it?

Despite Father's title, in here I am still the hostess. I lead him to the foyer and, before he opens the door, he turns to me with one last piece of 'useful' advice:

"Don't be harsh towards Hephaestus. Not tonight, especially. Give him a chance. I am sure you will grow fond of him in the end."

So you think, Father. So you think.

* * *

 _Royal Palace Gardens_

 _10:45 A.M._

Hera could not fathom how Zeus had managed to corner her like that. He had reassured her that no one would find out about Eris being interrogated about the stolen items and that the NIS simply wanted her statements put down to paper. Yet that did little to calm Hera down. Perhaps he suspected that Hera was behind all of this and that she had also gotten Eris involved. That silly girl! She must have said the wrong thing at some point. Eris had a reputation for doing that, after all.

But Zeus certainly knew that Hera had no other choice but to accept Eris' fate. Much as she hated to admit, the best thing for her to do during those two hours of the interrogation was to pace up and down the private quarters, trying her hardest to think of something more cheerful. Yet, she couldn't stop thinking about Ares instead. He had left his mobile phone in the Palace that night he had gone out and caused that trouble outside Aphrodite's front door. Hera had realized soon enough and the thought that the inevitable might have happened between her son and her step-daughter kept her from sleeping at night. But she also thought herself stupid to believe that. Surely, if something serious like that had taken place, Aphrodite's spying maid would have informed her at once. Instead, all she knew was what that stupid bodyguard had told her. He had gotten into a fight with His Highness after Ares had noticed him taking pictures of Aphrodite's notebook with his mobile phone. If his words were anything to go by, Ares had destroyed it by dropping it to the floor and stepping on it. At least that explained the bruises and the scars.

Suddenly, Eris walked into the living room. Eager for something to drink, she poured herself a glass of vodka. Her mother didn't mind. Whatever it is that she had gone through in the Grand Salon with the two NIS agents, it had obviously upset her a lot. Eris' hands were trembling and she refilled her glass as soon as it had emptied. To help her calm down, Hera took her daughter for a stroll in the Gardens. The clear air would cheer them both up.

A while later, Eris had relaxed enough to tell Hera everything. The agents had been sitting opposite her, one handling the portable lie detector and the other - the more scary-looking of the two - asking her all the questions. How long had Ganymede been working for them, how well did she know him, what exactly was his work, when was his internship ending, if she knew anything about the monetary value of the items... Throughout the two-hour process, she had followed her mother's advice to remain as stern and expressionless as possible. A daunting task, but she had fulfilled it. Although Hera was proud of her, she, too, had to ask her where the stolen items were kept. She wanted to find them before Zeus and the NIS did. Yet, that remained the one secret Eris was unwilling to reveal:

"They are in a safe place. A secret location where no one, not even the smugglers, can find it."

Hera couldn't stand Eris' games anymore:

"You don't understand," she let out. "I need to know where they are!"

Eris was taken aback, but did not try to change the subject. Realizing that Hera would become more persistent if she once again refused to tell her the truth, she leaned towards her and whispered:

"There is a village some twenty minutes away from Athens, where there's an empty warehouse. I've rented it and have some of my security guide it. When I tell them to give the items back, they will."

 _At long last,_ Hera thought. Eris was smarter than Hera had given her credit for. She had made sure that the items were only a phone call and a short drive away.

"Now tell me," she scolded Eris, "why was it so difficult for you to say so from the very beginning?"

Eris frowned, but remained silent. Hera then explained to her how from the on, they ought to tread very carefully, because Zeus might be suspecting they had been lying to him. They would have to figure out a way to bring them back without making it too obvious that it was all their doing. The last thing they wanted right now was to risk Eris being accused of robbery. Hera didn't tell her that, of course. Yet if, somehow, Eris ended up being declared guilty, her mother would not take her side. Even though she loved her children with all her might, Eris had to learn a harsh lesson in being sneaky. She already had a reputation for being a gossip and a liar. Unless she learned to control those setbacks, she would find herself in such a big trouble in the end that no one would manage to save her.

"Honestly, Mother, is me being interrogated not illegal?"

Boringly, Hera replied: "Not to worry, darling. They cannot arrest a member of the Royal Family. They have not arrested Aphrodite for far worse!"

At the mention of her half-sister's name, Eris stopped and looked at her mother: "You seem so preoccupied with her lately. What is the matter?"

Hera sighed. She could not tell Eris about her suspicions. But neither could she keep the truth from her.

"It's your brother, is all."

"Might Aphrodite have something to do with it?"

Hera stopped and faced her daughter. Eris, too, was suspicious that there had been more to the story that Ares had told them at breakfast to explain his appearance.

"Surely, you don't believe that all those scars and bruises are from his fight with Aphrodite's bodyguards!" Eris furthered. "His story simply doesn't make sense."

Hera did not want to be reminded of that stupid tabloid article. The situation had gotten worse. This morning, all the tabloids - and even some anti-royalist quality ones - kept pointing out that the Prince had spent the entire day at a luxurious hotel and they were all wondering why. Those dreadful journalists were giving her a constant reminder of the one thing she ought to stop, yet was unable to. Almost.

At that very moment, she made a decision. She would give Zeus her consent to the Aphrodite and Hephaestus' marriage. If that Quasimodo was the only way to keep her and Ares apart, then Hera was willing to overlook her own prejudices for her stepdaughter's intended.

"You are looking too much into it, Eris!" shes told her daughter instead. She wouldn't want her to find out about her brother and their step-sister. Hera had to be the only one who would know that secret.

"But it's the truth! If he had gotten into a simple fight, he wouldn't have looked as devastated as he does! Honestly, Mother, is there something you are not telling me?"

Hera couldn't stand it anymore: "Whatever it is, it is none of your concerns. Just keep him away from Aphrodite. She is meant to have dinner with Hephaestus tonight at the hotel. Your father has booked them a table at the Roof Garden restaurant. They do need to be seen together."

She knew she had revealed a lot of information, but that was her plan. Eris would most probably end up telling Ares. Hera knew how her son would react. He'd go to that restaurant to see the man that would become his brother-in-law. If Hera was lucky, Ares would be smart enough not to cause a scene in a crowded room. Especially not when the majority of the guests would know who the Greek Royal Family were and what they looked like. Perhaps, then, he would realize that Aphrodite belonged to someone else and that chasing after her was a waste of time.

 _For heaven's sake, she's his sister!_

* * *

 _2:00 P.M._

I am heading to an engagement I have to do today after visiting the bodyguard with the broken nose in the hospital. The surgery was successful and, according to the doctors, he will be able to come back to work within the week. But I have already arranged for him to take the rest of the holidays off. I can only imagine how precious family time is after what he has been through! It's the least I can do to thank him for his great work.

Talking of family, my private mobile phone rings. It's Mother.

"Hi, sweetheart!" she says after I pick it up. "Tonight is the big night. Are you nervous?" She knows about me meeting Hephaestus tonight and she tries to sounds cheerful, but I can still spot the sarcasm in her voice.

"I'm not in the mood for teasing."

And just like that, she gets serious. "Darling, what's wrong?"

I shrug my shoulders: "Everything, I guess!"

"It does not have to do with what I read about Ares, does it?" she says in English. That's how you know you're having a serious conversation with her: "About the trouble he had caused?"

I admit, I did write an email to her last night about Ares staying at the Royal Suite. But, since I no longer have a private diary, I did need to get it out of my head. Mother wouldn't judge. She never does.

"Yes, I'm afraid," I reply in English too. The driver shots me a curious glare through the rear-view mirror, but I can't use two languages at once. On top of it all, both my driver and my bodyguard speak so terrible English that I can basically tell Mother my greatest secrets on the spot. Taking a deep breath, I add: "I did give him shelter, but he went on about causing even more trouble and now I'm just..."

"Confused."

"Yes."

I can picture Mother right now. She's nodding. "Listen," she adds. "You know what I think about that boy. He is troubled. He does not have a clear role in the family and this whole part-time royal thing does not seem to be working out as well as everyone thought it would. He is looking for reassurance of any kind."

"I cannot give him that."

"Exactly!"

I bite my bottom lip, rather hesitating to utter the next words: "But I don't want to see him ruining himself."

She sighs: "Honey, his self-destructiveness is not your fault. Or his."

"I know."

"If you come too close to him, you will fall back into the void." It's amazing. She doesn't know anything about my history with Ares, yet she talks as if she knows every single detail. If maternal instinct is to blame for that, it will spare me so much trouble... "Do you really want to risk it, after all you've been through?"

I don't reply, which Mother takes as a 'no'. Then she furthers: "I do not want to sound like your father but he is right about one thing. You have achieved a great many things in those seven months. You have been through a lot and managed to come out with as few scars as possible. Whatever Ares might be involved in, do promise me you will stay out of it. I would not want you to get into trouble, not after you have put it all behind."

"I know," I say, letting out a deep breath. "But still. It would have been so much easier if you were here."

I mean it. I know she is too busy to just grab a plane and come here all the way from New York, but everything is such an awful mess right now that I just want her to hold me in her arms and reassure me that everything will turn out fine.

"I know, dear," she replies. "But I am just a phone call away. Just take a deep breath and everything will be all right. Try to think of something else, something happier."

"Whatever I've tried, I can't forget about that stupid dinner."

"I didn't mean that kind of happy thoughts!"

I scoff, which Mother can hear: "There you go!"

"Still. He is the one that asked for my hand in marriage."

"His parents might have made him. The husband of the future Queen of Greece, the most famous man in the country... Who wouldn't like the sound of that?" To be honest, I've thought about that too. He didn't strike me as someone that would take the initiative when I first met him.

"I know I don't."

"Do give him a chance, though. Who knows, he might end up becoming a good friend."

"A friend?!"

To say that I am repulsed by the prospect is an understatement. But it's typical of Mother to give me that kind of advice. All about not judging a book by its cover and getting to know someone before turning them down. This is what I do, most of the time at least. However, try as I might, I won't be able to look at poor Hephaestus without thinking of the money and the agreements behind our match and that's what I hate the most about him. He makes me feel like I was sold off at auction.

I must have missed a great deal from what Mother was saying while I was thinking that. Still, I manage to concentrate again just in time to hear another piece of advice: "I know you are stubborn as a mule, sweetie, but do not reduce yourself to a mean girl. You are worth far more than that."

Suddenly, I hear voices, cameras clicking, and applause from outside the window. We must have arrived.

"Mother, I have to go," I say hastily. "It's time for me to cut another ribbon."

She laughs, but before I hung up, she remembers there is one more thing she needs to say: "Oh before you go! Niobe has made a Christmas card for you and posted it today. You should see our living room. I need to re-hire that decorator, there's glitter all over the furniture!"

I can't help laughing at that. I miss that little girl so much!

"That's getting you into a festive mood!" I joke.

But Mother quickly gets back on topic: "Just keep away from harm."

My chauffeur clears his throat. I get it, I need to finish that conversation. My bodyguard is already standing outside, waiting for the signal from the driver so that he can open the door.

"I'll try to," I tell Mother. "I promise."

Now I hung up. Throwing the phone in my purse, the bodyguard opens the door and out of the car I step, to once again do good, see new faces, and create the illusion that everything in my life is perfect.

Honestly, it is such a welcome distraction!

* * *

 _HGMY [His Greek Majesty's Yacht] Thalatta_

 _3:00 P.M_

Amphitrite was standing on the upper deck, taking in the view and enjoying the winter breeze. The crew, which consisted exclusively of officers of the Greek Royal Navy, kept warning them to stay inside at all times. The Aegean was unpredictable in the winter and countless were the times small waterspouts could form during stormy days. But Amphitrite had learned the tricks of the sea by now. The winter of 2006 was dry, with the lowest record of rain recorded in the last decade. One didn't have to look at the weather reports to reach those conclusions. A look at the sea would do perfectly. The waters were extremely calm for the middle of December and they would certainly not face the rough seas that their Captain and the Coastguard kept warning them about.

She grinned. Perhaps she had indeed become "the fairy of the seas", as Poseidon would teasingly call her. Not that it would surprise her. As long as she could remember herself, the sea had always played a major role in her life. She had been born and raised at the island of Naxos, in a lovely house close to the sea. Her mother, Doris, would take care of her five children - four daughters and a son. Her father, Nereus, lived in the mainland, where he could run his ferry boat business, but he would visit every weekend and during the holidays. After she and Poseidon had become engaged, they had moved to Tinos, where her parents had bought them a mansion with an amazing sea view as a wedding gift. It was relatively small compared to the Palaces Poseidon had grown up in, but it made them happy. Following the birth of their son, Triton, in 1992, they moved to Porto Heli, a small coastal town at the Argolic Gulf. There, they lived in a lavish mansion at the outskirts of town. It was the ideal location for people like them. Even though it was a favourite holiday resort for the rich and famous during the summer, it was almost deserted in the winter. But Athens was almost three driving hours away and the islands were easily accessible. No, neither she nor Poseidon would leave Porto Heli for the world.

Even though they were the King's brother and sister-in-law, Poseidon and Amphitrite lived a relatively quiet life. He was running Nereus' business with the help of Amphitrite's brother, Nerites. His appointment as the head of his father-in-law's company had cost Poseidon the rights to the royal appanage, since a law declared that no member of the Royal Family could run a business, in Greece or abroad, and still have the right to receive tax payers' money. Yet, Zeus had ensured him that he could keep his title on two conditions. First, that he would run Nereus' business under the name 'Poseidon Olympios' and second, that he and his wife would undertake a maximum of five engagements every month. That decision had angered the republicans, who believed that Poseidon should get rid of his title altogether, and worsened the rivalry between the two brothers, but as far as Amphitrite was concerned, Zeus had tried to find the best possible solution. She knew that her husband hated that change in his status. After all, he wore his princely title like a badge of honour. Yet even he could not disobey the King for fear of being stripped of it.

Thus, Amphitrite and Poseidon used their titles as a platform for the common good, touring the islands for the sake of the Crown and working for the causes close to their heart. After all, every working member of the Royal Family had to undertake a certain amount of charity work. Amphitrite had chosen her agenda early on in her marriage. She'd work to improve living conditions in the Greek islands. She knew from her own experience that they lacked a significant amount of doctors and teachers, meaning that many islanders would have to travel a long distance to get to the nearest hospital or school, which was often in another, bigger island or even the mainland. But she could not found a charity cause with that aim for that was deemed a political issue and Queen Hera had advised her to be as politically neutral as possible. Thus, a few years later, in 1997, she and Poseidon had ended up founding the Hellenic Seas Initiative for marine conservation, which Amphitrite ran. Other than that, she was also appointed by the King and the Greek National Tourism Organization as a goodwill ambassador for tourism in the Greek islands. As for Poseidon, he continued to be a member of the International Olympic Committee and to help his wife co-run HSI as much as his own busy schedule would allow it.

Amphitrite was pleased with her life. Although she had chosen a career that would have allowed her to see the world, never could she have imagined that she'd also have a platform on which she could cause some real, meaningful change. She and her husband were travelling to various countries, speaking at international conferences, meeting with influential people, and working for the good of Greece and the Greek people.

 _Plus, we are entitled to privacy_ , she thought. Her children, fourteen-year-old Triton and eleven-year-old Rhode, were free to choose their own careers while keeping their princely titles. They would enjoy all of the benefits of being royal but without many of the responsibilities. Rhea kept reminding them of that, as well.

Amphitrite was worried about her. Since boarding the ship, her mother-in-law had not left her cabin except to join them for breakfast and lunch. Yet neither she nor Poseidon could bring themselves to ask her what the matter was. It would have been pointless anyway. She would turn to her heel and leave, going back to rereading the same old book or getting back to knitting that scarves she intended for Hebe and Rhode. It had been one of the hobbies she had gotten into after moving to Crete _. A pleasant pastime_ , as Rhea would call it. Instead, they kept blaming it on the fact she'd visit Athens again. Amphitrite understood. She, too, disliked the noisy and chaotic capital and so did Poseidon. But each of the spouses detested Athens for different reasons.

She looked up at the sky. Afternoon. They had been traveling for almost eleven hours. Seven more to go. She began to hum a song. It was the lullaby she used to sing to her children and which her own grandmother had taught her. It was a melancholic tune, whose lyrics spoke of the darkness that life sometimes falls into and the power of hope and courage, which always led people out of the void and the chaos. It was only fifty words long, so Amphitrite would sing it over and over again. Funnily enough, she had sang the same song the day she had met Poseidon.

 _It was July 1987, a few days after her twenty-second birthday. Her parents had convinced her to join them at the nautical club at Naxos, where they would watch that year's Cycladic Sailboat Race. Almost thirty contestants would take part, each representing a major island of the Cyclades. What to her parents sounded like a nice day out, for Amphitrite it was an opportunity to drink and escape without being noticed. A while later, she found herself on her favourite beach, one of the few left untouched by tourism. Taking off her sandals, she climbed on a rock. She loved that breathtaking view. Nothing ahead of her but the sea, the sun, and the horizon. Without a second thought, Amphitrite began to sing. It was a family trait that she and her sisters had inherited from Doris. Her voice echoed in the wind, creating the illusion that she was accompanied by a choir. As soon as the song ended, she sang it again. And again. Until she heard a voice behind her._

 _"You sing like a fairy, Miss!"_

 _Startled, she looked behind her, only to come face to face with Prince Poseidon. He had traveled to Naxos for the races. It was all Nereus would talk about during the past few days, as if trying to brainwash his daughters into impressing the dashing royal. Truth be told, he had a rather impressive record. The immediate older brother of the new King and a member of the Greek Olympic sailing team, having served in the Greek Royal Navy and with a degree in Maritime... A perfect potential son-in-law, indeed. But apparently he, too, had grown tired of all that pointless chatter at the club._

 _"Thank you," she replied._

 _She had heard the rumours about him of course. A womanizer well into his thirties with no real job other than making public speeches and cutting ribbons, he was not what Amphitrite would call the man of her dreams. He was definitely not Prince Charming on a white stallion. But perhaps modesty overtook her at that moment, so when he asked her if he could sit by her, she immediately said 'yes'. For a second, she contemplated whether Poseidon was seeing her as his next conquest, but she quickly put that thought aside. Soon enough, what had started as a simple conversation developed into a long stroll along the beach and, before she realized it, she agreed to meet him in the same place at the same time the next day. Try as she might, Amphitrite couldn't explain why she had not left right there and then. There was something magnetic yet terrifying about him. He wasn't like the men she had dated before. To begin with, he was twelve years her senior. But it wasn't romantic attraction than drew her to him. It was curiosity. She wanted to know the real him. Who knows, it would make a nice memory to look back on when she was old and grey._ Two days with a Prince. _It_ s _ounded like a movie._

 _Thus Poseidon began to pursue her. At first, he'd visit the island twice a month so they could have their usual stroll along the beach. But as soon as they had developed a friendship, his travels from Athens to Naxos became all the more frequent. Almost every week, they'd meet in the least crowded bars and taverns for a secret rendezvous. But never on their own. Nerites would always accompany her, acting as her guardian in case Poseidon would like to play the seduction game with her. After all, it was also Nerites' duty, as the older - and only - brother to keep his sisters from harm. More often than not, he'd take advantage of their date nights to find someone too. But they never said Nereus or Doris about their arrangement. Proud as they were that their daughter had enchanted a prince, they were also concerned. Poseidon obviously seemed obsessed with her. It was only a matter of time before the voracious prince would bed her and they had to do whatever it took to keep that from happening. Amphitrite, too, had always made sure to stop him before it was too late. Why else would he be getting her all those expensive jewels if he didn't want to seduce her?  
_

 _But their relationship could not remain a secret for long. When winter came, the island became barren of tourists, yet the hotels continued to be almost full. Following the numerous announcements from the Palace about the Prince's frequent visits to the island (and aides keeping mum about the reason), journalists began to flock all over Naxos hoping to catch a glimpse of the King's brother with his latest conquest. Soon enough, word spread all over the island and articles began to pop out in the national press. Nereus was thrilled. Soon enough, his little Amphitrite would become a princess in her own right. Doris, however, was worried. All those rumours had caused a drift among their daughters. Erato supported the match, Galateia (ever the vainest of the four) was envious, and Thaleia kept warning her baby sister to be cautious. Amphitrite continued to return his precious gifts and to refuse meeting him in private without a chaperone.  
_

 _Poseidon had enough. That woman was driving him mad with desire. The more she turned down his advances, the more stubborn he became. He hated himself for always wanting to spend more time with her and even for fantasizing about finally sleeping with her. But most of all, he despised how she made him feel things he had never felt for another woman before. She obviously liked things the traditional way. So, he'd play by her rules. One day, Amphitrite came back home after swimming with her friends only to find the house filled with relatives and family friends. Noticing her, Doris took her to the kitchen at once and told her that Poseidon had come a while after she had left to ask for her hand in marriage. Nereus had agreed. Furious, Amphitrite packed up in a rush and, without changing her clothes or taking a shower first, she drove to the port. She was angry at her father for taking such an important decision about her without asking her first. But what could she expect? He was the traditional Greek father. No matter what his daughters would achieve on their own merit, nothing could ever be greater than a good marriage. He had even forbidden Nerites to get married until every single one of his sisters had found a husband. Yes, all four of them!_

 _She arrived at Paros that evening. The minute she stepped into her car, she burst out crying. She had no idea why. But soon enough, she wiped away her tears and drove to her cousins' house. She had asked them if she could stay with them for a few days and they had agreed. She had hoped that Doris wouldn't have told them about Poseidon asking to marry her and, in order to make sure, she didn't tell them a thing either. But she made the mistake of writing to her parents, knowing that they'd be worried sick. After all, she had left without saying goodbye. For the next few days, they'd call her as often as they could to beg her to come back. Yet she wasn't easily convinced. She'd rather they came to see her in person._

 _One night, she heard someone throwing pebbles at her window. She opened it, thinking that it was one of her cousin's pranks. Instead, she came face to face with Poseidon. He was soaking wet from the pouring rain. Amphitrite tried to convince him to come inside, but he wouldn't leave until she came outside first. Having no other choice, she joined him in the garden where he took her hand in his and knelt in front of her. He didn't have a ring but he promised that, if she agreed to marry him, he'd get her a dolphin. A real, living one! She called him mad and asked him to go home._ _ _She would spend the next few nights wide awake, trying to make up her mind. Deep down, she knew she had fallen for him. She liked that he oozed authority and masculinity. He was definitely ten times the man that his brothers or any of her previous boyfriends had been or would ever hope to be. Plus, he made her laugh with his practical jokes and salty sense of humour. Eventually, she agreed to marry him on the condition that he'd leave the poor dolphin alone and let her choose the ring.__

Stopping her song, she giggled. Suddenly, she heard a woman's voice next to her:

"It was very nice, dear. Don't stop."

Gasping, she turned to face the intruder. Rhea approached her and, following Amphitrite's lead, she also held onto the railing and looked at the waves. The Princess smiled faintly. Even though Rhea was trying to appear cheerful, her demeanour was not fooling her anymore.

"You don't need to worry, Mother," she said. Rhea had asked her to address her thus since her wedding and, hard as it was to get used to calling the former queen thus initially, now she could not address her otherwise. "Everything will be just fine, you'll see."

Rhea shook her head: "I cannot help thinking that something very serious is about to happen."

Amphitrite knew better than to doubt her mother-in-law's gut feeling. It only made her more eager to change the subject as an attempt to cheer Rhea up:

"It was very nice of Zeus to lend us the royal yacht and to let us stay at Tatoi. We will be in good company. Hestia has been there for the last two days and Athena and Demeter are arriving tomorrow. I know you don't really like the Palace, but we can take long strolls around the garden. Visit the villagers too, perhaps?"

She knew that it was unheard of the Royal Family to chit-chat with their employees, much as Amphitrite could not understand why. She treated her own staff of five as good friends, even trusting Triton and Rhode in their care during the periods of her absence. Much as Poseidon disliked his wife hanging out with the housekeeper, he, too, asked them about their own families and called them by their first names.

Rhea nodded. Yes, she did enjoy spending time with her family. However, Amphitrite couldn't help noticing that she was still troubled by something.

"Mother, what is the matter?"

Rhea looked down. "I have a feeling that Zeus might be hiding something from us."

She had not told them about Aphrodite and Hephaestus. Zeus had wished that the rest of the family found out along with the public - via the media. They would have to believe that she had truly fallen for him, so that they couldn't question the possibility that it was an arranged match. But knowing Aphrodite's personality, it was a very daunting task.

Amphitrite wanted to ask more, but she knew Rhea would not give her a satisfying answer. She did not want to force her either. The older woman was very happy to see her relatives again after such a long time and Amphitrite did not want to ruin it. Instead, she tried once more to cheer her up:

"Well. Whatever it is, it certainly can't be worse than being mentioned in the foreign press as 'Princess Poseidon of Greece'!"

With a theatrical movement, she tossed her hair with her hand. Rhea scoffed. They both hated the fact that Amphitrite was considered of a lower status in the Royal Family because she was a princess by marriage. Even though the law of absolute primogeniture declared that the married-into princesses were kept in the same esteem as their born-into sisters-in-law, some British and Greek monarchist newspapers still referred to Amphitrite as such. Instead, to the Greek government she was simply known as Princess Amphitrite of Greece. No different than Hestia, Athena, or Eris. A woman with her very own identity and of equal significance to her blue-blooded relatives. A very fair rule, as a matter of fact.

Amphitrite then noticed than Rhea was not wearing her coat. Removing hers at once, she brought it around her mother-in-law's shoulders. Rhea tried to protest, but Amphitrite would hear none of it:

"No, no, no, take it! I am a winter swimmer, remember? I have grown immune to the cold by now, but I only wear coats so that Poseidon won't whine about me getting sick!"

With a simple nod, Rhea let Amphitrite help her wear it properly. Even though Amphitrite was slightly taller than her, they were the same size.

"Whatever it is," Amphitrite added, "I am sure it is not something serious. Zeus and Hera would have let us know otherwise."

Much as Rhea wanted to agree, however, something was holding her back. She looked at the grey clouds in the sky instead.

"I just wish that the weather would change. We haven't had much rain this year," she pointed out.

Even though she might have meant it literally, Amphitrite couldn't help feeling that it was a metaphor. Indeed, it had been a relatively quiet year for the Royal Family and for the country. That was possibly the reason Rhea was so worried.

Something in the air felt like the calm before the storm.

But what?

* * *

 _Hotel GB, Royal Suite_

 _4:00 P.M._

I have a rather urgent question.

What are you supposed to wear at dinner with someone you don't like?

To make your lives easier, the dress code for the restaurant declares something formal. Considering the setting, a ball gown wouldn't do. So, I have to choose between knee-length and mini dresses. One problem solved. Now, I would like to make myself as unattractive as possible. I know, this task is impossible, but it is worth a try. I would even raid my grandmothers' closets if I could, wasn't it for two tiny issues. Both Rhea and Tethys are shorter than me and they live in Crete and London respectively. Actually, Granny divides her time between London and Pafos, but that is not the point.

What is important is that I never had to go through such horrid situations before. World leaders suddenly seem like a daunting company for the evening. The most interesting topic I could ever discuss with them is drawing landscapes and whether or not sushi is considered junk food.

And I need to concentrate.

I could have summoned up the 'special forces' - my dresser and her team that is - but I wouldn't like Zeus Almighty finding out I set up an entire mission just for a single date. It would give out the wrong signal. Nevertheless, I did call my dresser and she suggested pantsuits. Those make all men intimidated, apparently. But no, that wouldn't do. Father Dearest wants me to look as if I am trying to impress Hephaestus and he wants everyone present to witness it. To get the rumours started. Otherwise, he would have demanded that the Roof Garden remained closed for as long as our 'date' would last. It's how we always eat at restaurants here, after all. But picture it. Me and Hephaestus alone in a restaurant, with the waiters as the only company. Nightmare, I tell you!

Oh gosh, I know what will happen the moment I step into the room. All heads will turn, people will begin to whisper and before you know it, it's so silent that you can hear a pin drop and everyone is still staring at us. Until someone gets out a camera or a phone and starts taking pictures.

Smart move there, Thunder...

But the question still remains. What on earth should I wear?

After much thought and rummaging through my boudoir over and over again, I have settled on five candidates. Those agree with the dress code and aren't awfully fancy. Some are a couple seasons old and already worn one too many times, but we won't hold that against them.

So, here goes. Number one: a black, two-piece dress with a silk mini skirt and a tulle blouse. It doesn't show any cleavage at all. But we only wear black in public when it has to do with funerals or mourning. I'm supposed to appear at dinner tonight in semi-official function. Nope. Won't do. Moving on to the second choice. An olive green, knee-length chiffon dress. It's 1950s-inspired, sleeveless, and has the most revealing cleavage out of all the nominees. The perfect dress for a second or a third date. It's romantic, playful, but rather serious at the same time. Totally not suitable for tonight. Let's keep looking. The third dress is dark purple and grey. Made of chiffon and silk, it is decorated with rhinestones that run along the halter strap neckline. It might work, but still, I usually keep it for the actual dates too. Next is a purple full-sleeve dress. That might be good. It's made of tulle, its layered hem ends a little beneath the knee, and has a plunging neckline. But I can hide it with a black velvet button-less vest, with golden and red embroidered details all over the front. It's rather reminiscent of those waistcoats on Greek traditional dresses. Like killing two birds with one stone. Not only am I not revealing much (which is the right thing to do on a first date - leave things to the imagination) but I also promote my country's history. It would be perfect with the black leatherette high-heel over-knee boots. Now, were I meeting Hephaestus in a deserted restaurant, I would have worn this one without a second thought. It is the most grandmotherly-looking one out of them all. I'll just save it for the next time Father Dearest forces me out on a date with Hephaestus. It will crush down all of his hopes for a 'budding' romance. Yes, I know. I am cruel. But I don't really care at this point. Up next is the final choice. It's a fuchsia taffeta mini dress, with absolutely no decorative details and a one-shoulder neckline. The sleeve - on the right hand - reaches a little below the elbow. Combined with the golden metallic Blahnik heels and a matching silk tulle shawl, it will be perfect. No accessories at all. Not even short earrings. This way, it will be as romantic and serious as I want it to be. It'll make Hephaestus hopeful, but not dangerously so. The perfect choice to get the rumours started. Plus, I think I've worn that in a TV interview recently, so I guess people will remember it. The women, at least. They're the only ones who notice what you wear.

Besides, if Grandma Rhea's words are anything to go by, I am already an engaged woman. That dress will make me look like a betrothed. I hope.

Look at me, being so nervous that I am talking crap now. But that doesn't matter. The problem is solved.

The fuchsia taffeta it is. Choice No. 5.

And just like that, I've also found which perfume I'll wear with that.

* * *

 _Royal Palace, Private Quarters, Small sitting room_

 _5:20 P.M._

Eris suspected that there was more to Ares' story than he was willing to reveal. Seeing that she was getting nowhere with Hera and that Zeus was too preoccupied with his own issues to notice that some of the puzzle were missing, Eris decided to take action instead. There was a reason that he spent the entire day at Aphrodite's suite. Besides, his bruises and scars were fresher than two days old. Since his return at the Royal Palace, he had also become extremely irritable. Not only had he refused to join them for breakfast, choosing instead to eat it in his bedroom, but he had also threatened to leave again if they dared ask him about the day before. That time, he would leave his mobile phone behind on purpose. His decision had not been unnoticed by their father, who had demanded to know what had been the cause of all that fuss. When he found out, however, he did not do anything. Just cleared his throat, unfolded a different newspaper, and said, "He has no one to blame but himself for this."

Zeus' reaction did not surprise anyone. Not even Hera. But of course. Their mother had always been willing to defend her favourite child, no matter that he might have been on the wrong side. Eris felt repulsed by that kind of attachment. At the end of the day, Hera ought to realize that they had finally grown up. They did not need her guidance anymore.

Either with devious plans or with physical acts of violence, they would find a way to solve their issues.

Still, Eris had to get to the heart of the secret Ares was so desperately trying to hide. The whole story with the stolen artifacts was exciting at first, but even that ended up being just another boring procedure. To make matters worse, it was soon coming to an end. She needed to find something else to keep herself from being bored to death.

"You know, there is one positive outcome out of it all," Eris told him while they were watching the evening news.

Ares looked at her. He hoped that she was referring to what the anchorwoman had just said about the educational reforms and the cuts on the retirement fees being voted in the Parliament. But he knew his sister meant something else by that.

Eris caught only a glimpse of him. With a small grin, she added: "If you're lucky, you won't look like a raccoon at the gala. Good for you, concealer does wonders these days."

She was expecting him to get up and leave the room immediately. The thought that he would have to use beauty products, especially to appear in public, disgusted him. She had seen how he reacted towards the make-up artists during interviews and family photo shoots, asking them not to "paint" him and even pushing the most persisting ones aside. To him, it was something only the women were entitled to. That and jewelery. Instead he remained in place, choosing to ignore her as much as possible for the rest of the day. Why couldn't she be more like Eileithyia, he thought. Their younger sister never asked questions or was the big gossip that Eris was. She also knew how to control her temper. It was a quality that Ares normally despised, but which he was currently jealous of.

Wasn't it for that bodyguard spying on Aphrodite, Ares would not have found himself in that situation. He had seen it in his half-sister's eyes. How they had burned with rage after he had held her hair in place and witnessed her weakest moment. Sure, he had been a trespasser. But he had had no other choice. He could not have left her defenseless at the mercy of that vulture. The thought of her being vulnerable and spied by everyone made him furious. As did the thought that he could not come back there. Aphrodite herself had kicked him out. Under those circumstances, the best he could do would be to respect her wishes. Had she been another woman, he would have gone back at once and demanded justice. But she had shifted something in him. He would make Aphrodite cry again and he could not stand seeing her like that. Going back there would make him feel like the murderer returning to the crime scene. He could even hear her voice in his head, calling him that. She made him feel weak and pathetic, but he would not bring himself to hate her for it. Not anymore.

"Where are you wandering off to?" Eris interrupted.

Ares didn't reply. His sister began to put the pieces together. Since he had come back, he had been acting funny. The mere mention of Aphrodite's name was enough to make him suddenly annoyed at everything and every time he would hear someone speaking ill of her, he would storm out of the room that very second. She had witnessed it at lunch, where Hera had made an unimportant remark about Aphrodite's outfit at an engagement the day before. Their mother hadn't thought it was appropriate enough for the occasion, but it was enough to drive Ares crazy. Eris then remembered that lunch on Friday. She had noticed how Ares and Aphrodite had treated each other then, how they had avoided each other's glare and hadn't said a word. Then, after their father had shared the news on Aphrodite's engagement, she had leaped out of the room and Ares had been ready to follow her, only to be stopped. With a simple change in the names and the place, it seemed like a scene from those romance novels that Aphrodite was such a big fan of. But Eris preferred mystery. Yet, not even the most twisted tales she had read over the years could compare to what seemed like the only sensible explanation for her siblings' behaviour.

Aphrodite had been getting married; Ares had gotten furious; he had caused trouble outside her suite; she had held him hostage for almost twenty-four hours.

Could that be? Was that why Hera had been acting so odd for the past two days?

There was only one way for Eris to find out. Just one chance, which she was willing to take at that very moment:

"She is seeing him tonight, you know."

Ares jumped up. Eris noticed his reaction.

"What do you mean?" he asked anxiously.

She looked at the television. It was showing the sports news. Nothing to smile about, yet she could not help hiding that proud grin from her face.

"Speak up, Eris. Who's seeing whom?"

 _Like a bull about to attack_ , she thought. _Perfect!_

"Aphrodite."

Ares was sitting to the edge of his seat. There it was again, the strong influence her name had on him. As if it was a magic trick or something.

Eris added: "She's having dinner with her fiancé tonight."

She would have revealed more on the spot, but the look on Ares' face was most amusing. He was staring at her as if her words were a matter of life and death to him. But she wouldn't haste things. It was the most fun she had had in days, if not weeks.

"Mother told me.

She would have revealed more, but Ares' reactions were most amusing. He was looking at her as if he was waiting eagerly for her to continue. But not so fast.

"Mother told me. Apparently, it is going to be a very intimate affair. Just the two of them. A fun night before they make their first public appearance as a couple at the gala. To go through the details, you know."

Eris had made up half of that information. Yet, one did not have to be a genius to put two and two together. It was a very simple plot to imagine. But she had yet to uncover the bigger one, the one she knew Ares was more interested in.

She remained silent. Sipping a little of her tea, she proceeded to watch the weather report. It was not going to rain. Perfect for a date night!

"Where are they going to meet?"

Ares made such a terrible actor! Trying to appear totally uninterested, only to sound more desperate than he truly was!

"The Grande Bretagne," Eris let out, as if the location was an unimportant detail. "Apparently it has a restaurant as well. At the roof garden! There is a bar nearby as well, but it is only open in the summer, sadly."

Ares clenched his fists on the sofa cushion. The hotel... Close to the Royal Suite... How convenient for her!

Eris was proud of herself. She could sense that something intriguing was about to happen. At long last!

"You can make reservations there too, or so I've heard," she added. Perhaps that could help Ares come up with a plan that would end up being poorly executed, like most of his ideas recently. Not that she'd mind, of course.

Still, Ares was eager to ask one last question:

"When are they seeing each other?"

Eris thought she'd tease: "Why do you ask?"

He hesitated: "I don't know."

 _Oh, but you do! As do I!_

"Sounds more interesting than all those ads," he added, not quite sure if even he could believe that lie.

Taking one more sip, Eris replied: "Eight-thirty. They want the place to be filled with people. It is to start the rumours, I suppose."

Ares wanted to hit something. Badly. Aphrodite enjoying a night out with that famous fiancé of hers was one thing. But people seeing the two together infuriated him. As if he was robbed of the most precious thing he owned. Vain as it sounded, Aphrodite could only belong to Ares. No one else knew her as well as he did. No other man could appreciate her flaws, her mistakes, and her stubbornness. She was as crazy as she was serious; as wild as she was calm; as vengeful as she was friendly. Within seconds, she could go from being your staunchest supporter to your worst enemy. Ares adored that. There was no doubt about it. Only he could love her as much as she deserved.

Without saying a word, he stormed out the room. He had to find his lumberjack. Thirty minutes of practice would help him clear his head and come up with a way to go back to the hotel unnoticed. He was eager to see the man who had stolen her from him up close. To see if he made a worthy competitor.

Eris saw him walk away with an evil smile across her face. She would sit back and wait to reap what she just sowed. Who knows. Perhaps the tree would end up bearing some really ripe and tasty fruit this time.

* * *

 _Hotel GB, Royal Suite_

 _The same time..._

Christmas arrived early this year. I am already receiving presents.

Just as I returned from taking Blanche out for a walk and start to remove my baseball cap and heavy jacket (my winter uniform for going unnoticed), my friendly maid approaches me, holding a black bracelet case. But she doesn't know who it is from. No one really does. To be fair though, since it could pass the strict security controls and get in here, it must not be a bomb mechanism. Last thing I need right now is a terrorist attack or a very sick joke.

I examine the box, more out of curiosity than sheer interest. It doesn't even have the label of the jewelery shop or the designer. My friendly maid says that the butler (whom the hotel provides me with) gave it to her just as it was. It didn't have a bag to go with it.

All that secrecy rather makes me suspicious. I think I know the identity of the so-called anonymous sender. Let me help you take a guess as well.

Who came here one night and made my life even messier than it already was?

Exactly. Ares.

He wants to apologize, apparently. Although, I must confess, I am surprised. This doesn't seem like his kind of goodwill gesture, let alone one indicating that he wants to make up. I want him to come here, act as if he has every right to invade my privacy (no misinterpretations here please), for us to have a fight, and then for him to show that he is sorry to the top of his lungs before he looks at me like a guilty puppy. Or if you want the more 'adult' version, for him to push me against the wall and to make me reach the stars again.

At least that's how I imagine it. I've never been friends with his exes to know what he did with them after they would fight. But then again, I doubt he would make them doubt themselves as much as he has made me.

Well, I guess that he, too, has the right to have different ways to make up with his friends and his lovers.

OK. Here it comes. Moment of truth. I open it.

I gasp at once. This is one of the most exquisite bracelets I've ever set eyes on! It is a circle of diamond rose leaves with small emerald details and four rubies for the buds. A different row of diamonds and pearls are crafted as rose petals and they encircle the rubies, to create the illusion of a flower that has yet to blossom. I heft it. The rubies seem heavy enough. Then I breathe on the diamonds, to see if they're fake. Almost immediately, they go from cloudy to clear.

They're real.

My, my, he really is sorry! Why else would Ares spend such a small fortune on a single bracelet had he not regretted putting me through all this?

I won't thank him the next time I see him. There is no way I will call him to thank him. This would seem like I am doing him a favour. No, I shall put him to the test first. If he really wants to apologize, he needs to come here. He must say it to my face. Right on the very spot that has caused all this.

Carefully, I place the bracelet back into the case, only to notice a small card in it. That might reveal the identity of the 'mysterious' sender once and for all. I have come across such tricks before. From other so-called suitors. I've received so many precious gifts from them that I would need a small museum to exhibit them all. Some of them were returned to their rightful buyers after break-ups or simple rejections, but I have kept the best pieces for myself. I couldn't give them away just like that! Most of them are too stunning to adorn other women.

Same for this bracelet, frankly.

Back to the card. The letters on it are... nothing like Ares'. He makes the ugliest letters I've ever seen of a royal, as if he is too bored to write decently. But those letters are readable. They may not be calligraphic, but they are not childish either. Rather, they look as if they were written from trembling hands.

Could it be?

It reads:

 _Απ'όλα τ'άστρα τ'ουρανού ένα 'ναι που σου μοιάζει_

 _Που βγαίνει τη γλυκειάν αυγή κι όλα τα σκοτεινιάζει_

 _\- Η._

 _[Of all the stars in the sky, only one resembles you._

 _The one that rises at sweet dawn and outshines all others_

 _\- Η.]_

Hephaestus. That's all the H can stand for.

Naturally.

How foolish of me, to think that Ares might have wanted to make amends so soon after I threw him out! Of course he doesn't want to apologize, that'd be so far beneath him! As if making gifts and being decent for once will make him less the man that he thinks he is...

Now I feel worse. Like a prostitute that's been sold off to a husband she doesn't even like, just for the sake of bringing her family some money. And this bracelet is just a trick. A way to make me accept that offer.

Still, how does Hephaestus know the lyrics to one of my favourite Greek folk songs? It's a tune from the Aegean islands, the Cyclades to be exact... It is about the singer pointing out all the qualities of their beloved. Those lyrics that Hephaestus wrote compare that beloved - me in this case - to the sun. It is the only star that is untouchable because it burns the brightest...

Father is behind this. Bet all your money on that. He is the only man in that trio that knows how to lure a woman. Red roses, songs, jewels... Every single box is ticked. Pretty sure he has been the one to choose the bracelet too, if not purchase it even. Sure, he thinks he will make up for the damage after I have become Hephaestus' wife and he can get those millions he wants...

Maybe I should throw it away. But then my maids will find it, think I had a tantrum, and place it along with the rest of my jewelery. No, I have to think of something else.

I'll give it back. Tonight. I don't care about sending the wrong message. If Hephaestus is as eager to marry me as His Majesty claims, then the least he needs to do is try and come up with his own tricks to show his love and affection. Let him show me how smart and innovative he is for a change. I'll set the bar high. After all, he is my unofficial fiancé.

If it's a war you want, Your Majesty, it's a war you'll get.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: The big moment :P An entire chapter on Aphrodite/Hephaestus/Ares, without ANY politics or other history in this chapter (figured y'all needed a break from that :P) It is loosely inspired by _A Love Like War_ by ImpersonatingSugar, aka one of the best fanfics on this site. Do check it out, it's really faithful to the original myth(s) of Aphrodite, Hephaestus, and Ares :) Also, this chapter is dedicated to Annie-Anchy-M, not only for her precious support but also because she made it clear that she was eagerly waiting for all the drama. I really hope I haven't let you down! **

**This chapter did not come out quite the way I wanted it to, I'm afraid. But, in my defense, it was also rather hard to write considering that it takes on one place at once and that I had to divide it between the respective POVs of the three main characters of the story. Those of you who kept up with the story so far know that I write various little snippets that are like small stories in themselves, so you can imagine what fun it was for me to stick to just three people, lol. Dunno where I'm going with Hephaestus really, so I'm waiting to see where this story takes me.  
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 **Reviews are always welcome :)  
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 **P.S. If you have any questions about the characterization, don't worry. So do I. Aphrodite writes herself at this point and I'm trying to catch up with her, but she's a tour de force.**

* * *

 _17 December 2006_

 _Evening_

 _Private Quarters, Royal Palace_

Ares had little trouble setting his plan in action. He had come up with it during his workout session. Aphrodite was meeting the great man that had stolen her heart that evening, he would be there to witness it too. Every second of it.

His Private Assistant (a man slightly older than him and a good friend) had arranged everything. He had booked him a table near the one that Aphrodite and her fiancé would occupy. It was close enough for him to get a look good at them, yet far enough for him to go unnoticed. God forbid Her Royal Highness noticed his presence...

Were Ares not a member of the Royal Family, it would have been impossible for him to make a last-minute reservation at that restaurant, especially on a Sunday evening. But the mere mention of his title opened doors to him and he had been willing to use that perk to his advantage.

Ares didn't question how come Eris knew so much and neither did he care to find out. She had helped him enough. It was his chance to prove Aphrodite wrong. He'd play by her rules in order to achieve that. He'd show her that he wasn't the barbarian she thought he was but the man of her dreams. For once, he allowed his valet to help him get dressed, much to the older man's surprise. But he was determined to play by Aphrodite's rules. If it's a prince she wanted, it's a Prince she'd get. Even if he had to dress like their father for it.

Life in the Army Base had gotten him used to much more comfortable and practical clothing. To tell the truth, he felt rather ridiculous in his 'princely' costume: a two-piece dark blue suit, white shirt, red tie, and well-polished shoes. Like all the times Hera would dress him like a man when he was a boy. But that was how the game was played. Warriors and knights had shining armours; princes had matching jackets and trousers. But no matter how many centuries went by, the same little devils would ignite the wars: women.

The one he was going after was famous for it. She liked men that way, after all. Rough and brutal. It was a good enough excuse to keep Ares from shaving. The lack of time too.

Entering the hotel wasn't difficult for him. Although the concierge and the security guards shot him confused looks when they saw him approaching, they did step aside nonetheless. Despite the trouble His Royal Highness had caused to the hotel's reputation with that tabloid cover, they could not risk another confrontation that would subsequently lead to one more disfranchisement. The GB was an important landmark for Athens. They couldn't afford an intemperate Prince ruining their business and reputation just because he felt like it.

Ares had also asked his PA to join him, but he had not revealed to him the whole truth. As far as his assistant was concerned, the Crown Princess would be dining with her fiancé and it was the Prince's duty, as her older and sole male sibling, to make sure that her betrothed was indeed suitable for her. However, they ought to tread carefully. They had to go unnoticed by Aphrodite or else they would face her fury. She was capable of everything when she was double-crossed. To ensure that their presence there was as discreet as possible, Ares left his mobile phone in the Palace. He wouldn't want Hera to start calling him constantly and he didn't know how to put that damn thing into silent. He had sent a servant to tell her that he wouldn't make it to dinner. No more information. That was all she needed to know.

Try as he might, his curiosity was overshadowed by his anger. Aphrodite had treated him like a plaything. She had treated him like a lover the one minute and then like a brother the next. Every single time, she had ensure that Ares hadn't forgotten who was the future monarch. She hadn't wanted anyone to rid her of the pleasure of having the upper hand. That kiss had proved just that. It still frustrated Ares. She had brought her arms around him and held him very close to him - as if she had wanted them to be so closely attached that, in the end, they'd be inseparable. They had remained like that for a few moments but she had constantly refused to give in to his advances and had kept their kiss as a mere, long peck. Heck, she had even sealed her power over him by biting his bottom lip! Then, out of the blue, she had run away. She had hid in that stupid study, only to reappear a few minutes later. Except that from then on, she had avoided him even more, acting as if it had all been his fault!

Could he blame her behaviour on guilt? No, he knew her too well for it. She never felt the slightest regret over being unfaithful, even if that man had been her fiancé. If Ares' calculations were correct, she must have been involved with the guy before she had left for the big tour. Despite the little time she had had to herself back then, she must certainly have found someone to keep her "company", even for just a few minutes. Heck, she had even escaped to go to a party and spend the whole night with him at an area in London she would certainly not visit in a million years otherwise. Yet, even way before that, every time he found out she had a new beau, either by the paparazzi pictures, the press reports, or the King's shouts, Ares died a little on the inside. His colleagues would make bets on how long her latest relationship would last but no one had been brave enough to ask him his own opinion. They knew he'd shove them against the wall and warn them against not respecting her honour.

But the worst thing was listening to the King's plans for a lavish royal wedding, with all the heads of state and government in attendance. Ares could picture Aphrodite in a white wedding gown with a train that was twenty-three feet long and a handmade veil. She was stepping out of the horse-drawn carriage and looking back to greet the cheering crowds before entering the Cathedral. Zeus was walking her down the aisle, dressed in his military uniform and beaming with pride because his prodigy daughter finally decided to settle down. Everyone would be staring at her. Ares included. He was standing by the groom, acting as the best man. He had known for years that he would be asked to play that role one day. His parents and tradition dictated it. As for the groom, he was a faceless creature, taking the form of whatever man Aphrodite happened to be dating every time. There had been younger and older men alike, as well as lovers her age. As long as they looked masculine enough, she didn't care. Not even when they left her crying, cursing and swearing that she would never fall in love again. But before long, she found herself in a new adventure. It was always the same old, vain and vicious circle.

Ares could free her of it. He knew her better than all the men she had met after all. Hell, he could read her like an open book. Even the parts of her personality that she was unfamiliar with. How she wanted to be treated; what she was afraid of; why she wouldn't sleep at night; what made her smile... He could guess her every need just by looking into her eyes. None of her previous conquests could say the same thing. Maybe she knew it, too. That's why she had agreed to follow him to that tiny hotel.

Was she getting married in order to avoid Ares? Impossible. She would never fall too low. Perhaps her fiancé had fooled Aphrodite by promising her the world. He might have convinced her he was able to give her everything she thought she lacked - emotional stability, a true friend, a life as far away from trouble as possible... When, in truth, she was capricious. She already had a few good friends. A life of unwanted celebrity and too many privileges did teach them both a hard lesson in knowing who to trust. Her life was not as complicated as she believed it was and she was awfully close to her maternal family. As far as Ares was concerned, they had proved a shoulder to cry on over the years.

As had he.

That's why it hurt so much to know that she had shunned him for another man.

His own selfishness might have also played a role in it. Yet trying to change his feelings would not change the circumstances. He was curious to see who had stolen her from him.

Ares would even fight for Aphrodite if he had to. She was worth it, after all.

* * *

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB  
_

I feel like I'm getting married.

Yes, I know. Please overlook the irony in it. It's already bad enough that I have to meet him for dinner. To Zeus Almighty's mind, that does count as a date. Which brings us all the closer to the final countdown and to the day I will have to wear a long white gown and get married to the guy that my family and the whole country think I'm head over heels for. Who knows? Perhaps when I'll be getting ready on that day - when and if it ever comes - I'll feel as I do today.

My friendly maid was surprised at my decision not to wear any jewelery at all. She's been working for me long enough to know that, in certain occasions, I dress a certain way in order to spread a particular message. No accessories means I am not in the mood to impress anyone, which translates to "Whatever it is you have in mind, please don't count me in". I am not expecting Hephaestus to get it, of course. As far as I'm concerned, he'll get the second one. That I don't want his stupid bracelet and that any future attempt to bribe me is useless.

But trust her to remain quiet. She won't tell a soul that I asked her to put Hephaestus' bracelet in my purse, complete with the case and the card. She knows how I feel about this marriage. We do need something to discuss while I'm taking a bath, after all. Nevertheless, orders are orders. If Father Dearest wants me to have dinner with my "betrothed", then so I will. But that's as far as I am willing to go. He had given me instructions on how I ought to behave at dinner too. "Be kind, don't intimidate him, treat him the way you would treat an old friend you haven't seen in years," to quote him. But I won't. I need some sort of amusement.

Perhaps it'll be worse when I actually have to walk out of that door, in my white custom-made and handmade gown, with the crowds cheering on, and Zeus Almighty in his military uniform (complete with a hat) giving me marriage advice in the horse-drawn carriage on our way to church. Yeah. Trust the expert to teach you a thing or two about a field in which he failed gloriously.

Amphitrite once told me that, on her wedding day, she had that odd feeling that she didn't want to stand Uncle Poseidon up, but she also wanted to run away while she still could. Well, they're married now, so you know how that turned out.

But her situation is different. First things first, she knew she was in love with my uncle, even though she still doesn't know what she sees in him. Second, he will never become king and, last but not least, he did try to woo her. He spent a fortune and many long hours traveling to and from Naxos to see her even for a couple of hours. As far as I'm concerned, Hephaestus lives in Athens and he has not even called me once since our first meeting a month ago. If the 'courtship' is anything to go by, I don't really hope that situation will change once we're married. I guess I can identify more with Queen Demeter, then. Who knew. Her own father wanted to make her the consort of a Crown Prince no matter what, and so he married her off to the most eligible one he could find. But at least she married royalty and her husband seems perfectly put together and he respects her enough to have her still be married to him after some thirty-five years.

Honestly, I have no idea what sick joke His Majesty is playing on me. I am the most eligible bride in the world of royalty and, believe it or not, my troublesome reputation contributes to it. Considering the medieval practices we work by and which we name 'tradition', my prospective suitors came from the grandest royal houses of Europe - the Netherlands, Sweden, Norway, Spain, even Britain. But nope. Not only do I not get the satisfaction of turning them down, I also have to offer them a piece of the wedding cake.

Thinking about it, standing Hephaestus up would save me an awful lot of trouble. Worst thing Zeus Almighty can do for me in that case is to make me awfully busy again. Considering everything that happened with Ares, though, it would be a very welcome distraction. He can't have me married to Hephaestus at once, royal weddings take an awful lot of planning. A little less than state visits do, but still. We normally announce engagement announcements a couple of months after the proposal has been made actually, to have some extra time to plan the wedding. We just don't tell you that so you won't feel like you're missing out on all the fun.

Still, I have a bracelet to return.

Boo-hoo.

Just take a few deep breaths and everything will be fine. Rather easier said than done. There is a knock on the front door and my bodyguard opens it. He will escort me to the restaurant. I nod and I step outside. He waited until the corridor was empty (as much as it can be), so that I can step out unnoticed. There is normally another entrance that goes straight to that restaurant, but we can always my presence there on security concerns. No one knows how we truly function, so we got that covered.

Alright. So, out of the room I go.

Let the games begin.

* * *

 _Night_

 _Roof Garden Restaurant, Hotel GB  
_

Hephaestus felt like the fish out of the water. He could feel people staring at him as he had been shown to his table by the maitre d'. Some had even been whispering about his limbering behind his back. Drawing a deep breath as he had sat down, he had tried to convince himself that he had had to get used to that kind of attention from the on, since life as a royal would demand him being in the spotlight constantly. If he had been getting married to a minor royal, it'd have been easier for him. Yet, both the King and his parents had been adamant that he ought to marry the Crown Princess. As a matter of fact, he couldn't help being mesmerized by her either. _  
_He stared at his watch, trying very hard to hide his nervousness. A waiter had asked him twice already if he was all right or if he needed anything to eat or to drink while he was waiting for his "company". Hephaestus prompted against it. It wouldn't be proper for him to have already started his dinner while she was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, it hit him. What if she wouldn't show up altogether? His Majesty had told him that that was impossible, that she would not have met him in the first place if she had not wished to marry him as much as she claimed. They made it sound as if she were a puppet and, much as he hated to admit it, he wondered whether that applied to him as well. His mother was thrilled about the match. Her son would become the most famous man in the country after the Prime Minister. She would mingle in royal circles, enjoying the status of the mother-in-law to the Crown Princess of Greece. She'd be seated in the royal boxes in social events, she'd be photographed with the reigning couple, and her own son, who had never amounted to anything important so far, would be the second half in what would be known as the crown princess couple. It was heaven to her. But it did not make Hephaestus feel as if he and Aphrodite weren't sacrificed for their parents' pleasure.

He felt guilty for pressuring her into marrying him when obviously she wasn't drawn to the idea. But the King had reassured him time and again that he should pursue her if he truly loved her, even against her wishes. He had told him that she would get to love him eventually and he had reminded him of the trick he had used to convince the Queen to marry him. As far as Hephaestus was concerned, despite their marital issues and His Majesty's "indiscretions," they had a happy marriage. She had given him children and protection against harm and, in return, he had offered her a title and a life of luxury and privilege. Perhaps Hephaestus and Aphrodite's case would not be that different in the end.

Still, despite the possible ending to their story, Hephaestus was still somewhat bitter over the way she had treated him during their audience at the Palace of Tatoi over a month ago. Since then, they had not spoken to each other. He had decided not to bother her unnecessarily (she was a busy woman, after all), but she hardly made any efforts to arrange another audience with him or even to call him and see how he was doing. Well, he couldn't blame her. She was so independent that the mere thought of her being bound to someone, especially a man she hadn't chosen herself, was unpleasant and discouraging at best.

Perhaps the bracelet would help break the ice between them. Hephaestus had been working on it for almost three weeks. He would often stay up the night to make sure that he would finish it on time. He believed it was his most beautiful creation so far. He had spent hours looking up Aphrodite on the Internet (despite his parents' protests that it prevented her from using the phone), examining her accessories and figuring out her preferences - from precious gems to flowers. He would also read as many interviews as he could find. Red roses were her favourite flower; she preferred rubies over sapphires and declared herself to be allergic to fake diamonds. He had destroyed one of his mother's old necklace (which she never wore) in order to make it. It had all the stones he needed. The diamonds were small enough and the rubies could work as rose buds just fine. His mother did protest, in fact, when she discovered the absence of the necklace, but she warmed up to her son after he told her what he had destroyed it for. Yet, eager as she had been to see the final product, Hephaestus wouldn't let her. Aphrodite would have to be the very first woman to lay eyes on it. It was made for her, after all.

When he had told Zeus about it, the King also suggested he wrote some lyrics in a card he'd put in there. "Women love cheesy romance," he had said. "Doesn't matter who they are or what they do, give them silly quotes, flowers, and chocolates and they fall straight into your arms."

But Hephaestus didn't have any illusions. Aphrodite wouldn't fall with a simple gift. She had probably received dozens, if not hundreds, of such jewels from other suitors before. But whereas the other men would have bought or ordered them, he had actually created it himself. She would appreciate that, at least.  
The waiter returned. Once more, he asked him if he needed anything. Hephaestus asked for a glass of water. His throat was dry. Surely him drinking some water because Aphrodite's arrival wouldn't hurt. She, too, must have been nervous before a grand appearance. Easy as she made it seem every single time...

* * *

"Rather busy for a Sunday night, don't you think?"

Ares couldn't help agreeing with his PA. What great chance circumstances for the Crown Princess to show off her fiancé among her future subjects... The location, too, offered the ideal scenery for the perfect romantic dinner. The Acropolis was clearly visible, as were Lycabettus Hill, and the Hellenic Parliament. The most major landmarks of Athens. The entire hotel offered the best ostentation of wealth and privilege that anyone - even Aphrodite - could think of.

She loved such tricks. More often than not, she used them to intimidate her enemies and to impress the men she had decided to bed. The breathtaking view, combined with the alcohol and her appearance, helped her achieve her goal every time. Except that now she had decided to marry the guy. So, there must have been something very special about him. A quality known only to Aphrodite, which overshadowed all of her past lovers. Even Ares.

For a passing moment, Ares wished he could somehow switch places with that man. Just for a night. The couples in the nearby tables were not afraid to engage in public displays of affection - except for the foreigners, who were more reserved by nature - and he felt a pang of jealousy. A stranger would be kissing the back of Aphrodite's hand, he would sneakily touch her fingers halfway through dinner and eagerly brush his leg across hers underneath the table. Then they would go for a drink and before anyone could realize, they would find themselves in the Royal Suite, tangled between the sheets on her bed in the room that one of her maids had made sure to lock, so the little love birds could enjoy the rest of their night uninterrupted.

He clenched his fists trying to swallow back his anger and jealousy. Whatever happened, he ought not to lose his temper. Both the customers and the staff had recognized him. Some even got out their mobile phones sneakingly and took pictures of him. The minute he had stepped in, a twenty-year-old waitress had asked to take a picture with him. She was slender, petite, and very fast and forward. Exactly the type Ares loved for a one-night-stand. But he was not there to hit and run. He was after one prey in particular. The toughest one to catch. She was evoking him to catch her, only to fly away the second he stretched out his arm. And she was so damn fast that no one could keep up with her.

 _A daunting challenge, indeed._

All those people with their stupid cameras and loud whispers might destroy his plan. He didn't want Aphrodite to notice him. Not right away. If she entered and heard the waitresses mention that he was there as well, she would leave right that very instant and screw the fiancé and their plans. Aphrodite was nasty as hell when double-crossed and met with unexpected surprises, but she was also discreet enough not to cause a scene in public. It was a wicked combination. Especially after what had happened the night she had kicked him out, she might be thinking that he was stalking her. Luckily for him, she couldn't do anything other than accusing him of being just like the bodyguard that had been spying on her.

Maybe he was. But he had questions that needed to be answered. Fast.

The more she had kept him waiting, the more eager he would become.

A waiter approached their table and brought Ares back to reality. After ordering their food and drinks, Ares and his PA began to talk about sports - the only topic that would keep any curious eavesdroppers away and that had absolutely nothing to do with their mission. Had they discussed women or politics, Ares would think about her again and he didn't need her to be a distracting thought yet again.

Soon enough, Ares noticed a very odd sight.

A young man his age sat a couple of tables away, to that area that, as they had been told, was reserved for a 'special guest'. Two tables on each side of the one by which the stranger was sitting were left empty. Ares was familiar with that practice. It was typical for them every time they went out to a fancy restaurant if they lacked a special separate room for privacy. That way, they blocked out any possible intruders. Truth be told, it would make far more sense for Ares if he and his PA had been seated in that area instead. That stranger, however, whoever he was, could hardly walk without a walking stick and he kept wearing gloves on the dining table. Ares couldn't help thinking how both the Queen and the Princesses would have a fit if they could see him. Gloves and mobile phones were strictly forbidden on the table, whether they were at the Palace or out and about.

Ares wasn't the only man that was looking at him. A few other customers did so as well. The strangers got out a small tissue and wiped the sweat off his forehead. Obviously, he didn't like being stared at.

Wait a minute. For a fleeing moment, Ares thought that that stranger was the famous fiancé. But that was impossible. Aphrodite would never see a man like him romantically, let alone agree to marry him.

Perhaps he was the assistant of her betrothed or something, that had come here to tell her that his boss had got cold feet at the last minute. Aphrodite would get angry at him for standing her up and she would look for another adventure the first chance she'd get. If Ares was lucky enough, that would be the case.

It wasn't easy to be involved with the most famous princess in the world, after all.

She was all that was missing from that perfect picture. But, knowing her, she wouldn't be too late for her own wedding...

* * *

Ladies and gentlemen, the big moment has finally arrived. I made it all the way from the elevator to the roof. Father would be so proud...

Since there are no press corps around, I believe it is safe for me to reveal a tiny little secret. To all of you who hide your mobile phones under the tables or come up with other ways to take our picture and think that you are going unnoticed, let me just say something. We can see you! And hear you. Like it or not, not everyone knows how to turn off the flash from their mobile phone cameras and, no matter what you do, that big button in the middle will make a clicking sound. If being sneakingly photographed was a job, our kind would have been the best in the field.

Why am I telling you this, you may ask? Guess why. While the maitre d' is showing me to my table and my bodyguard is carefully walking behind me, I can spot all those people as they take their phones and cameras out of their purses and pockets. I am pretty sure at this point that whoever came up with installing cameras at mobile phones was a paparazzi who just wanted to make his life much easier.

Take it from someone who is an avid amateur photographer herself. We don't need memories of each and every single night of our lives.

At least I don't. If you ask Zeus Almighty, he'll request you take as many pictures as possible. The more are gathered, the merrier he'll be. It's what this evening is all about, after all. For the world to see that I'm dating someone, even though he's way below my league, and that I'm not afraid to go out in public with him. I do hope I've made him proud.

To put it simply, everything has been going according to plan so far. Since they noticed my presence, you can't hear a pin drop. But that does not come as a surprise, it happens every time I go somewhere. To me, at least. The rest of my royal relatives have it easy. They can get by unnoticed, especially when they travel abroad. In fact, they'll be happy if they are in a foreign country and someone - anyone - recognizes them. But add me to the mix and suddenly, time stands still and I'm the only person moving.

So, all eyes are on me, the mobile phones come out of the void, and all the while, I can't help feeling that something isn't right.

I have not regretted coming up here. It's too late to back down now either way. I approach the table and kiss Hephaestus' cheek. Poor thing, he was taken by surprise so badly that his glass almost slips from his hands. I ask him if he's doing all right and he is trying to stand up to help me get seated. But my bodyguard is faster and pulls back the chair for me instead. With a single hand motion of mine, he bows his head and walks away, leaving me alone with my intended.

Enough with the riff-raff. Time to be the actress.

Hephaestus seems very nervous. I don't blame him, really. So was I the first time I went out and realized I was suddenly the centre of attention. In fact, I remember how I almost set the tablecloth on fire. This is why I never order flambé dishes in public.

Judging by his slightly trembling hands, so should he.

My, Father is a vulture. I am not being sarcastic for a change. He threw this poor man straight into the abyss, not taking into consideration that he has lived a far more cloistered life than the rest of us. Much as I hate having to marry him because I was instructed so, it is up to me to make him feel comfortable. As much as possible, that is.

I will have to be cruel, though, eventually. No one has ever returned a present out of kindness. But, seeing that His Majesty won't listen to me, I will have to break off the engagement myself. For both mine and Hephaestus' sakes.

Maybe, if I'm lucky enough, that will give Zeus Almighty a decent lesson in parenthood. Rule number one: never, ever, ever force your children to do something they don't want to do. I had hoped he'd have learned that lesson by that point, but he still needs help apparently.

However, I cannot break up with Hephaestus right away. The magic trick has worked. I can already see a few flashes and a few clicks here and there. We are going to be the most important news in those gossip TV shows and the tabloids, after all. But they can't listen to us. Neither do I want Hephaestus to understand I take pity on him. So, in short, I don't have a choice. I have to be my good old bitter self. It's one way to do it, after all.

"Just to be clear," I whisper to him after I have sat down. "I am here because His Majesty asked me to. I believe the same can be said about you. We are here to make people believe that we are actually interested in each other so, if you see me laughing, I am trying to draw attention on us. You can try to be funny if you want to, but I do not want you to. All I want is for you to look amused and as if you are enjoying yourself for once."

Harsh, I know. But I can't have it any other way. I need to get us both out of this cage and, if I have to make him hate me to the moon and back in order to achieve it, then so be it.

Still, though. Something is not quite the way it should be.

If only I knew what.

* * *

Aphrodite's behaviour confused Hephaestus. He didn't know what had stunned him the most - her kiss or her words? As far as he was concerned, that was her being cold and distant towards him. Maybe it was the fact that they were in a public place, but she appeared to be less cold than he could recall from their first meeting. For one thing, she was smiling more. But it could have also been part of her show.

He wanted to be chivalrous towards her. Hence why he wished to pull back her chair and help her sit down. But her bodyguard was faster. Of course. That man was a professional. Their employer's comfort was their duty. Welcoming the notion, Aphrodite smiled and thanked her security detail. After ordering a glass of red wine for herself, she unfolded her golden shawl and brought it around her shoulders.

She looked nothing short of radiant. Fuchsia and gold matched her colours perfectly and brought out her eyes. Funny, despite all the pictures he had seen of hers, he had forgotten how pretty they were. Blue, like the sky, with a few grey and golden flakes. A rare colour indeed. Like a precious gem.

If only he had been brave enough to say such things to her face! But he could not bring himself to feel comfortable around her. It wasn't just her status to blame for him feeling intimidated. There was a quality in her which he found magical. If he dared touch it, it would be destroyed. He didn't like to destroy beautiful things. Unless he wanted to create something prettier, of course. Yet she was the very definition of perfection. To his eyes, at least.

Eagerly, he looked at her wrists. If she was wearing his bracelet, then she was willing to at least try and be friends with him.

She did not try to hide them. His heart sank when he noticed she hadn't put it on. In fact, she wasn't donning any jewelery at all. That was odd. It didn't seem like her. Of all the times he had attended the same events as her and from the pictures he had seen, he knew that she never showed up without accessories. In an interview he had read recently, she had said that she considered fashion as a way to spread messages and that accessories were an important part of it. Hephaestus couldn't call himself an expert when it came to such things, but he couldn't help thinking that something prompted her decision to show up like that that evening.

She was obviously trying to tell him something. Something that had to do with jewelery perhaps. Yes, that was most probably the case. Perhaps it was about the bracelet in particular.

Could that be a trick or even a test? Did she want him to give her something even more extravagant? Zeus had warned him about it constantly, she wasn't a woman that was easily impressed, much as she liked romance. To win her heart, he had to outdo himself. Whatever that meant.

He would start to work on a new jewel the very next day. Perhaps not a bracelet, since it took a few days to create one, but perhaps a pair of earrings. The long ones, so that he would have more surface to work on. He should try and make something original, not the typical diamonds and roses. Maybe she raised the bar high for him because he was to be her husband and she hadn't chosen him. The least he could do was impress her the way no one else had before.

But it was a tough competition and he didn't know whether he could withstand it or not.

* * *

Ares was speechless. For someone who wasn't easily shocked, he was trying very hard to keep from bursting out laughing. But he wouldn't feel any guilty if he gave in eventually. The sight before him was absolutely ridiculous.

So, that was the famous fiancé? The man that had stolen her heart, that would obscure all others? The worthy competitor?

The creep?

As soon as Aphrodite had entered the room, Ares had hid his face behind the menu book and carefully watched her every move. She hadn't noticed him, thank heavens. Yet the minute she had approached the table where that stranger had been sitting, Ares had grown curious. Much to his surprise and disgust, he had to endure Aphrodite leaning forward and planting a kiss on that other man's cheek.

She might have kissed him the way she had kissed a friend rather than a future spouse, but it was enough to alarm Ares. Aphrodite was always tender like that with the people dear to her, be it in public or in private. It had been the quality that had made her so approachable and well-loved by the people, after all.

The perfect way to start the rumours.

There was no doubt about it anymore. That... ogre had been the man who, as everyone claimed, "had stolen her heart."

Pf! The most thrilling experience a guy like him could offer her was sex on a wheelchair. She might have made that her new fetish, but soon enough she'd come back to her normal self. She couldn't do without comfort. Sooner or later, she'd realize too, how she could not do without the best piece of the cake.

Ares could offer her just that. He was determined to change her mind, now more than ever. It'd be child's game. All he had to do was prove that he was tens and, heck, even dozens of times more of a man than her so-called fiancé claimed to be. He'd make her see each and every single one of that stranger's weaknesses. Without uttering a single word, he'd help her realize that working for the handicapped and being married to one were two completely different things. She wouldn't last a day being married to one. Fetishes aside, reality would catch up with her eventually.

Just how desperate was she to fall for someone that couldn't even sit without whimpering? Maybe it was that stupid thing called romance. Women fell for that crap. But as far as Ares was concerned, he hadn't noticed her wearing the same ring for more than two days in a row. Heck, she didn't even wear the same jewelery for more than a few hours every day!

So, if she didn't wear any engagement ring... Did that mean that it was all.. prank? But Zeus couldn't be lying about something so serious. Like it or not, she was the future monarch. Her personal life was of national - even international - interest.

Unless she just refused to wear the ring. Not until the engagement was announced. That might have been it. They were secretly betrothed and waiting for the right moment until she could proudly shove her ring to everyone's faces.

But that wasn't the point. Aphrodite needed a protector, much as she didn't want to admit it. She should be with someone that knew her well and that could give her both adventure and luxury. All her previous conquests had been worthy competitors when it came to that. She always set her bar high when it came to relationships. Only affluent businessmen, financiers, and wealthy aristocrats were good enough for her. That guy sure had an awful lot of money too, since both the King and the Queen had consented to their unlikely match. But Ares could eat him for breakfast. All he had to do was bed her. Once he had played the game by her own rules, she'd come back to him, begging for his attention with big puppy eyes.

It's how she was able to work her magic the best. He had heard about it too many times. And now, the time had come for him to see it for himself.

* * *

Ares is here. Again!

I knew I should have told the guards not to let him in the hotel altogether. Honestly, not only does he keep on following me around like a ghost, but I also have to pretend I haven't noticed him. What's more, I have to keep Hephaestus from thinking that he doesn't have my full attention anymore.

I don't want the world to see Ares' jealous rage in action. Zeus Almighty will have to pay the bill then and he will cut off my allowance. Again.

Then I will sleep with two more of his bodyguards, Hera will discover, I'll go on another tour, and all over again.

Honestly, this man needs a freaking hobby. I'm not going to go to London again.

Pissing me off is not a recommended activity either, yet it seems like this is all he's doing.

Forgive me for going off-topic. Back to my dinner. It's awkward at best. Hephaestus and I have nothing to talk about other than the weather and the food. Over the years, I've dined with people I knew I had nothing in common with, from politicians to celebrities and even dates. Still, we did manage to find a topic interesting enough for us to discuss.

Maybe it's my fault. I was ruder towards him than I ought to be. Hephaestus is right to avoid me, then. I wouldn't want to hang out with me either, if I went on being the Hera wannabe. I truly wish there was another, kinder way to force him to 'break up' with me, but if I tell him exactly what I have in mind, he might tell Father and the last thing I want right now is having to face His Majesty's wrath.

Still, I don't think he is any less the stranger than he was when I first met him at Tatoi last month. At least, back then, he was trying to be amusing and I threw him out of the door, eager to get it over and done with. However, I am not the lady of the house here and, much as it displeases me, I do have to make people believe that there is truly something going on between us. They shouldn't even suspect that we are perfect strangers.

And in order to do that, we are talking about pasta now.

Pasta!

It's an interesting topic, I must admit. Definitely the most intriguing one we managed to find and so far, the only thing we have in common. Neither one of us can pick a favourite kind and we both agree that their taste depends an awful lot on the sauce they are combined with.

And then Mr. Trouble strikes again.

"Good evening, everyone!" he says in a way that scares me more than it should have. Remembering the scene he caused two days ago, he should want to murder Hephaestus instead of wanting to be friends with him. Not to mention that he looks like the calm before the storm. He's freshly showered, smells of cologne, and wears a suit and a tie. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he looks normal. But in this life, you learn early on to question pretty much everything about everyone.

"Ares!" I exclaim. "What a lovely surprise, I did not expect to see you here!"

To say that that's an understatement is an understatement in itself. But the good manners forbid me from asking him what he wants here to his face. Not when Hephaestus is in front. Family matters are strictly private. Although, considering that to the world he is still my brother, I can be as rude as I want towards him.

"I am here with my Private Assistant," he replies. "He also happens to be a good friend of mine. Men's night out. But I must confess, you still have not introduced me to your company."

"My, of course!" I knew that this moment will come. Perhaps it's better than it happened in a crowded restaurant. "Hephaestus, this is His Highness Prince Ares." This is breaking the protocol, I ought to introduce Ares first since he is of higher social rank than Hephaestus. But I am not immune to the dramatic flair either I suppose. Oh, and he's not an HRH because he's adopted, therefore doesn't have the royal blood on him. Hephaestus looks a little dumbfounded at that as well, though, don't worry. "Ares, this is Hephaestus," I further. Both men shake hands and greet each other. Then I turn to Ares: "He is the man I have been telling you about."

I expect tables flipping, him shouting, Hephaestus being scared as heck, and me trying to hide a proud grin. But don't stand in the line for tickets yet. Nothing of it is about to happen. For better or worse.

All Ares does is raise his eyebrows. I wait for his anger to overcome him, but instead, he gives Hephaestus a strong pat on the shoulder. Like he wants to hit him, only nicely. It's breaking the protocol again, since this act shows familiarity, a behaviour which is awarded only to members of our family - close or extended.

"Well, it sure is nice to meet you Hephaestus!" he says happily. "By the way, you need to work on that handshake of yours. They need to be firm. It's part of the job."

Someone must have installed a hidden camera somewhere. Poor Hephaestus does choke on his food, but he recovers soon enough. Ares must be finding the whole thing _very_ amusing. He lives for such bad jokes. As a matter of fact, he keeps it up, trying to see who will burst out laughing first. Or who will grab the knife.

Whatever it is that he has in mind, I am just as confused as Hephaestus. He tried to explain himself, but it might have been my scoff that made Ares rush to explain:

"I figured that, since the Crown Princess and you appear together in public, that things between the two of you are rather serious." He's clearly mocking me right now. He tries to play innocent, though, by bringing one hand to his chest while the other rests behind his back. "Forgive me if I'm mistaken."

If this is all a trick or a test that Ares wants to put me through to see how easily I get pissed off, he succeeded already. I still have a bracelet to return though and a dinner to finish, and he is holding me back.

"I believe your company awaits you," I say rather sarcastically. "It would be most improper to leave him waiting."

But apparently, the trick isn't good enough.

"No, he's fine," he replies. Then, pretending to have noticed the plates on our table, he pretends to apologize for the inconvenience. "Ah! Excuse me, I see you are already eating!" Then he turns to me, takes a careful look of my plate, and points out: "Is that the grilled salmon with the Greek salad and the raisins dressing? I thought you hated raisins. What about your date?"

I won't even ask how come Ares knows exactly what we ordered just by taking a single look at the plate. The hotel changes the menu only once every two years, to give their customers plenty of time to taste everything apparently. Ares has had dinner here more than once. In fact, everyone in the Royal Family has been a guest here, whether on official capacity or not. As a rule of conduct, we have ordered the same dish at least twice, hence why Ares recognized it on first glance. No offense to the Head Chef at the Royal Palace, but the view from up here makes it the perfect venue to impress our official guests.

Needless to say, we have become the main attraction. Everyone tries to whisper, but they all do it at the same time, like a chorus. Therefore, it is easy for us to listen to what they're saying. Some cameras flash too. Zeus Almighty got what he wanted once again.

Hephaestus finds the whole thing just as amusing as Ares. For all the reasons Ares does not. Trust the third wheel to be the viewer every time. "For me, it's the grilled chicken breast with the cranberry and truffle sauce."

Fun fact, this is the most expensive item in the menu after the lobster. But I don't like it. It stinks.

"Ah! Already a lover of gourmet, I see!" Ares exclaims. "I am having the ravioli with the roasted tomatoes and the basil sauce. Tasty but, considering the price, I'd have expected a sweeter, less Italian taste."

I'd love to tell him that we didn't care, but Hephaestus speaks first. He must be wondering why I let him standing there, towering over us as he does. So, for one, at long last, he took the initiative:

"Would you like to take a seat, Your High-"

I shot him an ice-cold stare and, good for him, he notices it soon enough and keeps quiet. If only Ares would not comment on that as well...!

"I see she already has you under her spell," he teases. He makes me want to slap him. "You are going to have a hard time... Hephaestus it was? Let me just call you 'old sport'. Like in _The Great Gatsby_."

He is a sneaky fool, that's what he is.

"You've never read _Gatsby_ ," I remind him.

"Maybe not, but I have seen the movies. You persisted," he says looking at me. Then he turns to Hephaestus: "Her favourite character is Daisy. She believes she is mysterious. Personally, I find her rather annoying. She couldn't decide which man to settle with. I guess I see now why she found her rather relatable?"

I know what he has in his mind. He wants to scare Hephaestus away by comparing me and Daisy Buchanan. I know, I didn't think he was that smart either. But it might prove convenient to me as well.

Still, I do have to keep up appearances, so that the character development doesn't seem too forced. "That's enough for now."

To Ares, it is only an indication to go on: "I hope you agree with me, Old Sport, that Buchanan is an ugly name for a woman. I understand that it was America in the 1920s, but why would she choose a guy that could offer her a boring routine, that was vile, vain, and too filled with egoism and self-pity over a man who sacrificed everything for her? Who even held parties every night hoping to see her and who came with a past?"

Is he really comparing himself to Jay Gatsby right now? Gee, who knew he'd fall that low.

"I see you've read the book after all," I remark, digging the fork in the chicken breast. Personally, Ares was a combination of both men. But don't tell him that.

"Perhaps Old Sport here can explain," he adds adamantly. Then he faces Hephaestus again. "Can you tell me why she chose to stay with her husband in the end?"

Hephaestus shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know."

"Of course you do, it's an easy question!" Another pat on the shoulder. "Well?"

"Maybe she wants security? Stability? Financial reasons, perhaps?"

"Her lover is far wealthier than her husband."

Fine. If Ares wants to play rough, it's harsh he'll get. He tries to convince Hephaestus, who is obviously not at all familiar with all these references, that Daisy belonged with Gatsby instead of with Buchanan. So, I am going to hit Ares right where he hurts:

"But her lover has a mysterious past. You said so yourself. No one knows how he acquired his wealth. He might be a criminal as far as people are concerned."

Without thinking twice, Ares replies: "Same can be said for her husband." Dammit. "No one knows how come he has all that wealth. He says it's business. But is it?"

Oh, I see. He thinks I got engaged to Hephaestus just for the money. Well, he is not entirely wrong. It's just not my personal financial needs that need to be tended to out of this match. I wonder, how ashamed would Zeus Almighty feel if he found out that the whole truth about my impending marriage came out eventually? Far more than he'd be furious at me for wishing to break off my engagement because I take pity in Hephaestus, I tell you that.

Yet, my intended still doesn't get the game. "I can't say, I'm afraid. I haven't read the book."

"Well, read it and tell me." Another pat on the shoulder and once more, Ares sounds extremely confident about his victory. "I guess you are invited at the gala for the Queen's birthday, considering your... other half." Try hard to remain calm, Aphrodite, take deep breaths. You can punch him in the face later. "We'll be seated at the same table, I presume. Where all the fun takes place." Maybe not. "We have to thank the Crown Princess for that. She certainly knows how to entertain. Not a single boring moment when she's around!" He tries to pat me on the shoulder too, only to be so greatly disappointed. I don't let him.

"If you let us enjoy our dinner, Ares, Hephaestus will get to see it for himself."

Yes, I agree, it's not a great one-liner. But it's the best one I could come up with.

"Of course," Ares replies, rather taken aback by the sudden twist in the plot. "Pardon me, my stay has been overdue. It was nice seeing you here, Aphrodite, and good to meet you, Old Sport!"

Don't worry, he doesn't stray away from the battlefield for long. Once he has figured a strategy good enough to secure him a place at the winner's club, he will strike again. He can really catch everyone off guard when he puts his mind to it. Even Athena. And she's the genius of the family. Take it from someone who doesn't like her. At all.

Once Ares walks away, Hephaestus thinks it is the perfect time for him to make comments: "I might end up liking this nickname, after all!"

Sure thing. Personally, I have more important business to tend to.

Without losing a mere second, I open my purse.

About time this parody of a date night came to an end.

* * *

Hephaestus couldn't understand why Aphrodite acted the way she did. As far as he was concerned, all Ares wanted was to welcome him in the family, yet she went about acting as if she was bothered by her brother's mere presence.

He got used to her being cold and bitter towards him by that point. She was easier to read that way. But tonight, she kept confusing him. Within a couple of hours, he had seen so many different aspects of her character that he wasn't sure he could keep up anymore.

Up until Ares had interrupted them, she had been reserved at most, smiling at him kindly, discussing whatever ridiculous topic they could come up with, and occasionally bursting out laughing, just to draw even more attention on them. Hephaestus was too timid for an entire restaurant to stare at them, but soon he figured that it wasn't him the customers were interested in. It was Aphrodite, who had to make sure they all believed she truly was in love to a man like him. But after Ares had joined their conversation, he began to suspect that something else had been the matter.

Her initial surprise at seeing her brother was soon replaced with anger and, soon enough, before Hephaestus even knew it, she and Ares had cast him out of their conversation altogether. Just as they were about to dispute, Ares returned to his own table and, almost immediately, Aphrodite opened her purse to reveal a bracelet case.

Hephaestus recognized it at once.

It was his gift.

He knew what she'd say the minute she placed it on the table. She didn't like it and she wanted to return it. He felt disappointed. All those days of research and crafting had gone to waste.

Yet, Aphrodite told him a different story:

"Thank you, very much for the kind gesture. But, sadly, I cannot keep it. It is too pretty for me."

Maybe she was just being humble, even though that adjective could not be used to describe her. She had turned him down. Again. As he knew she would.

"Keep it," he said. "Even if you don't wear it. I made it myself."

Normally, he didn't reveal such things. But something in her eyes told him that she needed to know the truth.

She was surprised. Running her finger over the jewel, she examined it closely. To make sure that it was really handmade, apparently. A woman like her knew her way around jewelery and she could tell which ones were handcrafted by amateurs and which ones were not.

"I could swear that it was the work of a professional," she exclaimed. "You've put too much attention to detail. It must have taken you ages to find real rubies and diamonds."

Hephaestus smiled. Normally, he'd try to change the subject to something that didn't revolve around him. Yet the fact that she appreciated his work made him eager to tell her all about it. "My mother had an old necklace which she didn't wear anymore. All I had was to dismantle it and then put it back together in a different way."

It dawned on him, then, how odd he sounded. He talked about recycling jewelery to a woman whose net worth outshone that of the Greek Royal Family and his very own parents combined. Her maternal relatives were shipowners; her step-father was a tycoon. Even though Tantalus couldn't adopt her, he still paid for her lavish lifestyle because he and Dione had a joint bank account, which, in turn, put money into Aphrodite's trust fund. Or so he had read.

In short, she could afford dozens of precious jewels. Heck, she could even order custom-made ones from the big houses all over Europe. No one could resist the temptation and the challenge to design jewelery for the most famous and beautiful Princess in the world. Not with the connections both sides of her family had.

Then it dawned on him. They could never be equal. Whether due to her position in the Royal Family or her wealth, he would always walk two steps behind her.

Literally and metaphorically.

* * *

I'm such a terrible, horrible, selfish person.

All that time, I thought that Hephaestus was nothing more than what he looked like. Despite all the work I have done with the handicapped, somehow I blindly believed that, by being prejudiced towards him, I'd break Zeus Almighty's dreadful curse.

I haven't changed my mind. In fact, now I'm just more determined than ever to break the spell. Except that this time, it will be for a different reason.

Hephaestus does not deserve someone like me. I will give him a life of uncertainty, bitterness, self-doubt, and constant public scrutiny. But he is a very gentle soul. He doesn't have the thick skin required to survive in our world.

He can see the beauty in the world and capture it in his creations in a very unusual way. I guess the deep appreciation for beauty is the sole thing we have in common. Yet, much as it makes a good ingredient for a friendship, it is not enough to make a relationship last. A marriage is a long-term contract between two people. Something like a business deal with secret mechanisms known only among the spouses. If, out of the blue, a third party joins in, then it gets pretty crowded.

Knowing me, ours is already cursed to end up like that.

To make matters worse, I think he genuinely loves me. Why would he wish to sacrifice his privacy, the most precious thing a person can have, if he did not? Why would he have spent so many days, if not weeks, to create something as exquisite as the bracelet otherwise?

For the first time in my life, I truly regret returning a gift because I saw how it had affected its donor. But I insist. I can't keep it.

All I can give him is a life of uncertainty, bitterness, and constant public scrutiny. But he has a sweet, innocent soul. He can capture the world in his very own way. I guess the deep appreciation of beauty is the only thing we have in common. It's not enough to make a relationship last, though. It makes a good ingredient for a friendship, yes. Yet a marriage is a completely different story. Especially into a family like mine and with a person like me.

What is worse, I think he really loves me. Why would he have spent so many hours, if not days, to create something so exquisite if he didn't have any feeling for me?

For the first time in my life, I feel bad about returning a gift, not because I was sad over losing the jewel but because I saw how it affected the owner. However, I can't keep it.

"I'm sorry," I let out. I truly am.

Hephaestus avoids my gaze. "It's fine," he replies.

"No, you don't understand. Every time I look at it, I am reminded of the King's plan to get us married."

"I see," he sighs.

"No, you don't get it." On the spur of the moment, I touch the back of his hand. He clears his throat and tries to pull it back, but I hold him in place. He is still wearing black gloves. This time, they're made of cotton to allow him a better hold of the cutlery. I can feel his skin underneath. It feels rough. Much more so than Ares' touch. Truly the hands of a craftsman. I can't help wondering actually, is that how he got them so badly burned and disfigured?

He is as stunned as I am from my action. Yet, I don't want to waste another minute.

"I can't marry you just because of the money," I add. "It wouldn't feel right to either of us. We had better be honest with ourselves, we could never be happy together."

Telling the truth is never easy. In fact, it's the hardest task of all. That and apologizing. But hiding behind masks is not good either. It can get you into a far bigger trouble than you could originally imagine. Trust me. I speak from experience.

He lowers his gaze, clears his throat again and, with his free hand, he brings his class of water closer to his lips. After taking a short sip, he repeats what he said previously:

"Keep it. You don't have to wear it. You can just leave it in the shadows, too, if you want to. But it doesn't belong to another woman."

He obviously has his way with words and does know how to charm a woman. Or, if he is still trying to figure it out, he is doing great so far. Yet, he needs to learn that women are not so easily bought. Not when they truly respect themselves. But I have given him too hard of a time so far.

If only I would not feel so bad about hurting him!

"All right," I nod. Then I try to change the subject somewhat. I did notice that glint in his eye when I praised his skills as a jewelery maker. Unless he got shy again, I would be able to get to know him better through

"So, tell me. How long have you been making bracelets for?"

The look of excitement in his eyes returns: "It's a long story, really."

"Don't worry," I reassure him. "We have plenty of time!"

* * *

Ares felt like the biggest idiot that had ever walked on earth. He had put on a show, played the cheerful older brother who was willing to welcome his sister's fiancé into the family. He had tried to wake up Aphrodite by speaking her own language. And for what?

So that he could fail miserably.

He didn't know what to expect. Aphrodite wouldn't cause a scene, of course. But that Hephaestus guy must have been stupid enough not to have noticed the sparks between the two 'siblings'. Heck, Aphrodite surely had. But instead of avoiding Hephaestus like the plague, she avoided him instead.

He had seen everything. From Aphrodite taking the jewelery case out of her purse to her holding Hephaestus' hand and acting like a teenager on her very first date. There was shyness and awkwardness between them but soon the ice was breaking. Time and again, he'd hear her laughter - that loud, gleeful guffaw that made everyone turn and stare at them before they got back to gossiping and speculating the identity of her 'date'. The waiters were even going around the tables, quizzing everyone. A talkative one had come to their table too, and had asked them the much-discussed question while he was refilling their glasses. The minute he had noticed Ares' presence, however, he had stepped back and apologized.

Once more, Aphrodite had won. She let the whole restaurant know that she was in love with that creep. Soon enough, the entire hotel would know. Then the media would get wind of it and before anyone could realize, the new romance would get the world by storm. In a couple of months the national and the international press would eagerly await an engagement announcement. The King, thrilled that his daughter and heiress had finally found 'the one', would gladly sign and release it.

Try as he might, Ares couldn't figure out what on earth Aphrodite saw in Hephaestus. The guy was acting like an awkward teenager! He couldn't even answer a simple question without Aphrodite's help. Last time Ares had checked, she liked men that took the initiative, the kind that were too authoritative to fall on their knees just like that. She loved making them succumb to her every need and caprice. It was the game she enjoyed the most, twisting and turning them until she was on top. That fiancé of hers on the other hand... He looked like he had simply accepted his fate. Unless he gave her a challenge, their marriage was doomed to fail.

He would be surprised if they even made it from the engagement ring to the altar. Sooner or later, Aphrodite would get back to her old man-hunting ways. If Ares acted fast enough, he would be the first to enjoy her new-found self. It'd be his greatest honour, actually, to be with her at her moment of glory. But he had to swift his way through. She liked adventure, after all. He could offer her plenty of those.

For about an hour, Ares didn't turn to look at Aphrodite's table. Just listening to her glees and the speculations from the two middle-aged couples nearby was a good enough reminder. Her body might belong to him, but her heart was generously donated and devoted to someone else. Before long, that creep would soon claim Ares' property too. That was a wife's duty in the long run, eventually. To give her all to her husband. Mind, soul... and body.

He didn't have to instruct his PA that he shouldn't tell anyone about the things he had witnessed, not even his closest colleagues. Not that he had something to worry about. His PA knew how to keep a secret. He was working for the Royal Family, after all.

At some point, half-way through dessert, Ares realized that the laughter suddenly stopped. The gossip, however, was still going strong. It continued to revolve around that odd couple. Turning to look at Aphrodite's table, he saw their dishes and glasses still intact. His eyes wandered across the room and soon enough, he spotted them walking away. Aphrodite was leading the way, with Hephaestus trailing right behind her. Her bodyguard was nowhere to be seen. Ares knew that he, too, was lurking in the shadows somewhere nearby. The Crown Princess was precious to the country. They couldn't risk her getting harmed.

The betrothed made for a funny sight. Even though Hephaestus was taller than Aphrodite, he was limping along. Ares could picture them doing royal engagements and foreign trips together. Aphrodite's poor husband would always trail behind her, but not because protocol dictated it. Perhaps that was the reason why she agreed to marry him, after all. He satisfied her vanity by making her feel superior.

She wouldn't have it any other way.

But Aphrodite continued to be kind to her fiancé by stopping frequently to ensure he was all right. She was even walking more slowly so that he could catch up with her.

They disgusted Ares. He and Aphrodite had made various common public appearances over the years, from engagements to galas and state dinners. Never, not even once, did she accept to slower her pace for his sake. At least she had never demanded that he walked two steps behind her as well. He had kept on doing it out of respect for her. Never, not even once, had she thanked him for it.

For a moment, Ares wondered whether she took him for granted. He wouldn't be surprised if she did.

Fixing his jacket, Ares went back to talking about judo with his PA. A few moments later, however, the maitre d' approached their table.

"Her Royal Highness has asked me to inform you that she will be expecting you at the 'usual' bar at midnight, Sir. She underlined that you ought to be there on time."

With a simple nod, the maitre d' left. Ares looked at his watch. Eleven thirty. Plenty of time for him to pay the bill (he had dragged the PA here, after all) and to find the bar. He knew where it was. It was the grandest one out of the three the hotel had in total. He and Aphrodite would always hide there, so that they could trash their parents and their lifestyle over a couple of martinis or special cocktails. The barmen were always kind enough to keep their presence and confessions a secret.

Tonight, however, was special. It would be Ares' big moment.

The last chance to win her back.

* * *

You know you've been staying at a five-star hotel for far too long when the bartender prepares your favourite cheer-me-up drink the minute he notices what an awful mess you look like. Honestly, he's such an angel. He's seen me drunk, deluded, and in the mood to either kill someone or just spill out my guts and he has never told a soul. He has even convinced his colleagues to let me be. I'm never sleeping with him though. Both because I appreciate our friendship too much to destroy it.

He's even promised me to name a cocktail after me. It's been four years and he has yet to come up with something good enough. But the day he finally does come up with something, I will be the first person to try it. Like cutting a ribbon at an inaugurating, only with more benefits.

For now, it's the usual. Not to be confused with the mint martini. That one is the pick-me-up. The cheer-me-up is a mix of bittersweet lemon juice, cinnamon liqueur, and a touch of paprika. Plus a little something extra, which I can neither spot no matter what and which the bartender won't reveal, no matter how bad I beg him. He calls it Lady Oriental. I call it The State Secret.

It's the perfect way to end a wild evening. But, Zeus Almighty did get what he asked for. Over the next few days, everyone - from the tabloids to the quality press and even the evening news - will be showing the picture of me, Hephaestus, and Ares discussing literature. Surely, someone must have already sold it to the press by now. Then, everyone will be speculating who is the mysterious guy whose shoulder Ares can't stop patting. What is more, everyone will believe the lie Thunder wants to spread. That me and Hephaestus are in love.

Actually, I am afraid that Mother will be proven right in the end. Much as I hate to admit, Hephaestus and I might end up becoming good friends after all. Following the incident with the bracelet, we had a long discussion about our lives. We have more in common than meets the eye. We had troubled childhoods, we are the 'black sheep' of our respective families, and whoever expects us to play by the rules ends up terribly disappointed. Either due to stubbornness or any other kind of inability, we are both unwilling and unable to do so. Yet, we are not cut from the same cloth. He' s introverted, I'm extroverted. I like big crowds and I cannot lie, while he enjoys being on his own. He's timid whereas I can be the loudest person in the room. Ask each and every single one of my friends and exes. That's why I can never truly go out incognito.

Back on topic. Hephaestus and I are definitely not a match made in heaven. But I am willing to give him a chance, at least. Forget everything I knew last month. I can't hate him just because I'm mad at another man. Still, I won't marry him. I'm definite about that. Life as royalty would crash him.

Now the question is, how to tell Ares. I don't care what he thinks, he needs to find out the truth. Here, in this empty bar, with plenty of drinks. It's the perfect place for confessions and revelations.

If he's as smart as he acts like tonight, Ares will have come up with an excuse decent enough by now. He has a lot of explanations to give. First and foremost, why he spied on me and second, why the heck he had to analyze _Gatsby_. For the life of me, I can't figure out what the three of us have in common with Daisy, Gatsby, and Buchanan. Creepy as it sounds, when I read the book, I could only picture Zeus Almighty in the role of Daisy's husband. Blame the mistress for it.

I can think of a million other examples more befitting to us than those three. Unless that is the limit of Ares' intellect.

Deary me, I'm beginning to sound like Athena.

Mr. Trouble has just entered the stage. Walking as if he owns the damn place, he approaches me, but I have different plans. I take my glass and walk to a table that offers us plenty of privacy for me to lecture him on propriety. He follows my lead without much protestation. The minute we sit down, I jump straight on topic:

"Why were you spying on me?"

He's trying to laugh it off: "Why on earth would I do that?"

"To check the area. See if you have a worthy competitor."

From the way he looks at me, I can tell that those were exactly his thoughts. But he doesn't dare admit it. He has a bit of a trouble accepting his feelings. If he did not, he would spare us both an awful lot of trouble.

"Heavens, Ares, there is nothing wrong with being jealous!"

"Easy for you to say."

Not that again. Not here, of all places.

"Tell me just one thing, Aphrodite." He clenches his hands together on the table and stares at me. "What do you see in him?"

"He's a nice and gentle person."

"And suddenly, that makes him good enough to be your husband?"

It's now or never. "Father arranged this match. I don't know why and neither do I care to find out. You're not supposed to know and nothing has ever happened between us. That's all."

"That's all?" he says mockingly. "That's all? If the match is arranged, why don't you break it off?"

"I'm trying to, I just... I don't want to hurt him. Not anymore."

"If you need any help, I'm right here."

I see where he's trying to get with it. I can't help giving a sarcastic answer: "No, thank you."

He smirks. I can't believe how he can still find the whole situation amusing. "Pity," he says.

"You judge without knowing the whole picture."

"Then present it to me. I'm all ears."

I can't reveal too much. He knows enough already. If Zeus Almighty suspects that something is going on between us, he will kill me. Remember, he's a Cretan at heart. They value family and honour far more than the rest of the Greeks do. In short, I must keep my mouth shut.

"If you ask any more questions, I will make sure you never enter this hotel again."

I mean it. I can. I have more power in my little finger than he has in his whole body. I do need something to give me the upper hand, after all. Don't I?

"Fine." He believes I'm softer than that and that I'd never do that. How very little he knows what I can be capable of... "Do you still have your red wig?"

I'm confused here. What does that have to do with anything?

"The one you used to wear to go out incognito," he adds. "Have you kept it?"

"Yes," I reply, still at quite a loss over the meaning of all this.

"Good." Putting his hand in his pocket, he takes out a cigarette. But then, remembering how much I hate it, he puts it back where he took it from. And it's not just my rules that forbid him from doing so. There's a strict no-smoking policy in the entire building. They don't want to risk being set on fire by something so small and ridiculous.

"The gala for the Queen's birthday is in four days," he reminds me, even though it was unnecessary. "After it is over, you and I will be going out."

Well, that's a twist. "Out? Where?"

He raises his pointer finger: "Ts, ts, ts! No questions! Wear something simple. A pair of jeans would do."

I must confess, I am curious about what he is planning now. But I still want to know what Gatsby has to do with all this. "I'm not in the mood for games."

"This is not a game," he says, leaning back on his leather chair, his hands clenched in front of him. "I will take you somewhere you've never been before."

"In Athens? With you? Impossible."

Honestly, I can still recall each and every single of our escapades as teenagers. He'd steal a motorcycle from our police protection, on I'd hop, and off we'd go. Sure, we were chased after eventually. But after the tenth time, they realized there was no stopping us. We must have been all over Athens, as far as I'm concerned. And to a few nearby towns as well.

Leaning forward, Ares whispers teasingly: "Don't worry, Princess. I won't kidnap you."

That's his nickname for me. One of the two. It's rather lame, really, to call me by my title, but that is precisely what it is about. He's mocking our status this way.

Nevertheless, I am still not convinced. I can't be sure of anything when it comes to him lately. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because I am being honest for once." He is still leaning forward. Our faces are so close, you would think we're a couple. Was this place more crowded, I'd have tried to avoid his eyes, how they look at me with so much self-confidence and lust. Yet, the bar is relatively empty. The few remaining customers sit so far away to even notice our presence.

When he tries to touch my hand, I pull it back at once. Sorry, buddy. You've already had your dessert.

Clearing his throat, he stares at his drink. He takes a sip before adding: "There is a small side road across the street from the side of this hotel. You just cross the main road, walk a little to the right, and find it. Knowing our parents, the gala will end at around two in the morning. At three o'clock, you will come to our meeting point. You'll have left the gown and the whole Princess thing in the suite. I'll be the man in black leather, smoking a joint."

I can't resist that mischievous grin on his face. He has something in his mind and I think I know what it is. I smirk: "You really are something."

"Care to join me or not?"

"Sure!" I reply with a grimace. "I am rather curious to visit that oh, so magical place!"

He gets excited, like a small child on Christmas morning. "You will love it, I'm sure!" he says, pointing at me while holding his glass. After taking a sip, however, he puts some rules to this game that we're playing. "But you have to be on your own. No bodyguards."

"All right, Lieutenant." I am in as much a mood for teasing as he is. Blame the magic of Lady Oriental. "No security, no gowns, no Princess. How does that sound?"

He beams with delight: "Perfect!"

Suddenly, I want to kiss him again. For real, this time. Instead, I take another sip of my drink. No matter what, we are still in public.

I empty the whole glass at once instead. When I put it down, Ares gets up. Wishing me a good night, he leaves the money for his drink on the table. I watch him as he walks away.

I can't believe this.

Did I really just accept to go on a date with him?


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Gala chapter comes in the next chapter I swear :P This chapter is not one of my best, it's just kinda filling the gaps so that I can move on. Featuring: Demeter, Athena, and how the dynasty started (btw, if you notice any historical/other inaccuracies, please let me know :)) Also, dunno when I'll update next because I gotta move out and uni starts in a few weeks (whyyyyyyyyyy) but I'll try to come up with something, even if it's tiny.**

 **Also a few historical notes:**

 **\- The modern Greek state was founded in 1830, following the revolution of independence of 1821 - 1828, ending 400 years of Turkish occupation (it had started with the fall of Constantinople and the Byzantine Empire in 1453).**

 **\- 1863 was the year the first ever king of Greece Otto I. (born a Bavarian prince) was deposed. He had become king in 1832 at the Convention of London. The same year he was deposed, Greece was given a Danish-born king from the royal House of** **Schleswig- **Holstein-Sondenburg** -Glücksburg (and you thought Greek names were long and complicated...) and so his descendants formed the royal family of Greece.  
**

 **\- The fall of Smyrna in 1922: Long story short, Smyrna was a metropolis of primarily Greek population in Asia Minor in the 19th century, there was a war after the end of World War I between Turkey and Greece which cost Greece the areas it occupied in Asia Minor. It's a very complicated thing for me to explain simply, so your best shot would be to google "The Great Fire of Smyrna" if you'd like to find out more about it (I personally doubt I will bring it up in this story again but if I will, I will explain further then because it's an important chapter of Greek history).**

 **OK that's it. No more history for the next couple of chapters.  
**

* * *

 _18 December 2006_

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB  
_

My breakfast came with a little twist today.

A red wig.

Here's how the story goes. As usual, my friendly maid walked into my room with my breakfast tray. Stupid little Miss Sleepy Me was so occupied with the food and with humming the songs playing in the background (my favourite female Greek pop singer - just don't tell my mother) to notice that she left at once, only to return carrying a big hat box.

Merry Christmas!

I'm as giddy as Niobe and Hebe are when they see the trees underneath the Christmas tree. Well, I guess that each one of us has the right to celebrate at this time of year. Each for their own reasons, of course.

As you would expect, I go for the wig first thing. The food won't mind coming second today. Just in case you did not notice how excited I am.

To be fair, I forgot I even had it. I wore it for the last time two years ago. I actually remember coming back to the Suite, throwing it on the bed, eager for some piece and quiet. Maybe I was so furious that I even banged the door. Bad dates are the worst. I don't even remember who I was seeing back then.

Good for wigs, their hair doesn't grow. Otherwise, I'd be in a bit of a trouble.

I take it out and look at it carefully. It does need a little taking care of, but it is nothing a few curlers cannot fix. And even if that won't do, my hairstylist is only a phone call away.

Actually, thinking about it, I may be needing a new one. This one makes me look like a Russian undercover spy. Or a prostitute. Or a Russian spy working as an undercover prostitute. Or how those things are supposed to work anyway. I think I know now how come Ares remembered it.

Oh, well, I guess I am not wearing black with it. I wouldn't want the Greek intelligence services to be after me for the wrong reasons. Thunder Inc., run by the one and only Zeus Almighty in all his glory, is doing a splendid job as it is.

Great, now I am curious. What is that place that Ares wants to take me to? He said it's something special, somewhere I've definitely never been before. In this city. With him. Not even during our escapades when we were little. I won't even question the need for secrecy, a date is a date and we are still members of the same family. On top of it all, our family is the most prominent one in the country and both Ares and I are the most famous and eligible bachelors. This is wrong for all the wrong reasons, but I don't think I care much at this point.

I mean, what is the worst thing that could possibly happen?

* * *

 _Amalienborg Palace, Copenhagen, Denmark_

"Her Majesty The Queen!"

The double doors opened and Demeter entered the Grand Hall, where her husband - the King of Denmark - and children were waiting for her. She was dressed simply but formally, in a royal blue dress skirt with her pearl necklace and diamond jewelery. She was very happy to be traveling back to Greece, even for a few days. Her visit to her home country would be cut short, for she had to be back to Denmark for Christmas. Nevertheless, Athens would be a nice change from snowy Copenhagen.

Since she married the Danish Crown Prince in 1976, at the age of twenty-six, she had become the very definition of a Danish royal. Her job was to represent the Danes, after all. Demeter had been doing so for the past twenty-five years, following her husband's ascent to the throne after the sudden death of her father-in-law.

During the early years of her marriage, she found it impossible to get used to her new life and her new country. A frugal woman by nature, Demeter missed the relatively few luxuries the Greek Royal Family enjoyed compared to their Danish counterparts, as well as the beauty of Greece compared to boring Denmark. She found the lavish pomp and pageantry of the Danish court preposterous and the workings of the Danish court too old-fashioned. Growing up as a Greek princess, Demeter knew that monarchies ought to keep up with the times instead of sticking to tradition as strictly as some of their counterparts did. Maybe it was the need to keep the Greek royal dynasty afloat that had made them change so rapidly. Nevertheless, she played her role well. On her wedding day, her mother had advised her that she ought to think of herself as a Dane from then on. To do that, she would have to learn to love the Danish language, culture, and traditions, odd as they may have seemed.

Yet, Rhea's transition to Queen had been so much easier. Although she was not happy in her role, at least she had got to be Queen Consort of her native country. Demeter couldn't help feeling jealous. But turning down the Danish Crown Prince had not been an option for her. She had met her husband at the wedding of the Norwegian Crown Prince when she was seventeen years old. Although she was not interested in a serious relationship, her father had noticed how enchanted the Danish Crown Prince had been in her and he convinced the Danish Queen to help him arrange the marriage. Following their engagement in 1973, Demeter found solace in the fact that she would no longer be under Cronus' control.

At least her husband was decent enough to respect her. Their initial infatuation with each other soon wore off and was replaced by friendship and mutual understanding. Her husband had patiently helped her improve her Danish and he had never grown bored of answering each and every single question she had over Denmark or the Danish culture. He might have lacked the temper that his Greek cousins were known for, but he and Demeter bonded over their mutual love for nature. Even now, after thirty years of marriage, twenty-five years of reign, and two children, they relaxed by taking long walks in the gardens of Fredensborg Palace and Marselisborg Palace, their respective autumn and summer residences. But they didn't have that luxury in the winter. Amalienborg Palace was located right in the centre of Copenhagen and it was easily accessible by everyone, natives and tourists alike. The need for privacy made Demeter spend a lot of time indoors, which only made her terribly homesick. Even after all that time, she still missed Greece.

She missed the sun, the smell of the trees in the air, the feeling that she is as close to nature as she could get, even in a city that stunk of cement... She had missed the smell of the ground after it had rained. It was funny how she missed those tiny and insignificant details.

Every August, Zeus would invite her and her family for a cruise at the Greek islands on board the royal yacht. It was his own way of promoting tourism in his country. But for the Danish, her hatred for the winters and her love for the Greek summers earned her the nickname 'den triste dronningen', the sad queen. But Demeter did not mind. Her husband allowed her to travel to Greece as often as she wished, as long as it did not keep her back from her duties as Queen or harm her reputation; he had let her give Greek names to their children and to teach Greek to her much-beloved daughter, Persephone. Nevertheless, he was adamant about one thing. They were Danish first, Greek second. Persephone seemed fine with it. Yet Demeter believed that her daughter was still too young to know life, even though she was eighteen years old and had received the best schooling possible. Demeter knew that, if Persephone had a choice, she would spend half her year in Denmark and the other half in Greece, just to please both her parents. But Persephone was always the people-pleaser. Perhaps it was a good thing, after all. It had been the reason she had let her mother teach her so much about Greece eventually.

She even knew the story of the Olympios dynasty by heart. It dated back to 1863 when, after years of national war defeats and political turmoils that had been bestowed upon the Greeks, they decided to inaugurate their own king. The German-born king that France, Britain, and Germany had bestowed upon them following the founding of the Greek state in 1830 was not well-loved by the people. Even though they knew that their decision would alienate their political alliances who had suggested, among others, a Danish or a British prince as their new monarch, the Greeks chose the General of the Greek Army as the first King of the Hellenes. After all the officials voted for him, he became monarch at the age of fifty-three, childless and widowed. Almost immediately, he searched for a new wife. She would have to be young and preferably a foreign princess, in order to strengthen his ties with the other royal houses of Europe. That was the only way the other countries, whose leaders were not pleased with he violent overthrowing of the former and foreign king of Greece, would acknowledge the legitimacy of the new Greek royal House.

His second wife was thirty-three years his junior and renowned for her beauty. Born a princess of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen, her sister had married a cousin of the Russian Tsar. The fact that she was German angered the Greeks but pleased the Europeans, who were more than happy then to legitimize the new Greek royal dynasty. The princess was not very happy about marrying a widower old enough to be her father, but she relented in the end, drawn to the prospect of being queen instead of a mere countess or duchess. When she married the Greek King, she did not speak the language and had only met her intended four times. Nevertheless, it was a happy marriage that produced four children: sons Tartarus, Eros, Erebus, and daughter Nyx. Tartarus became King of the Hellenes in 1883 at the age of twenty-one, the year he had become an adult and the year his father had died abruptly in his sleep. As for his siblings, his brothers had a career in the military and his sister married a Swedish prince. As for Tartarus, he had already found himself a bride - a Russian princess.

Without much haste, the pair got married and they had three sons, Uranus, Typhon, and Pontus. The idea to pick names of natural elements came from his mother. Having noticed the Greeks' love for paganism, the German princess-turned-Queen of Greece had advised her husband and children to have such earthly names, ridiculous as they sounded to the ears of their subjects. Uranus found love in Gaia, a Spanish-born princess who changed her name and religion upon marriage in 1913, the year before the First World War started. It was a period marked with political instability. What his father and grandfather had managed to achieve, in Uranus' hands it was destroyed. He quarreled with the liberal and much-beloved Prime Minister over a variety of topics - particularly war strategy - and it had cost them the Second Balkan Wars only a year after the first one (where all the Balkan countries had fought against the Ottoman Empire), as well as the loss of Asia Minor in 1922, in the loss against Turkey.

Gaia had come to experience first-hand the effects of that feud. She had come to know life in exile better than anyone. In total, she had to leave Greece five times - four during her husband's reign and one during the junta in 1967. During both World Wars, she had sought solace and safety in Switzerland and then twice more she left willingly, when she saw that the political instability in Greece was getting too great. Cronus had promised to her that he would not bring forth another similar hardship, a promise he did not keep. Thus, line of kings ended in Zeus, who was known for securing the Greek throne but also for his obnoxious personal life.

The fact that he had married his third cousin, herself a descendant of the Romanovs, did not help much. Hera might have given him the stability and reassurance he so terribly needed, but she was intemperate, cruel even when it suited her. But she refused to divorce him. Even though she was raised in the Orthodox religion, she had visited a Catholic school during her time as the Greek Ambassador's daughter in France. She was a conservative and old-fashioned queen and the total opposite of her step-daughter and successor. Aphrodite would become the first ever Queen Regnant of Greece. That alone sounded modernizing enough for the traditionally patriarchal Greek society.

Demeter hoped that Zeus would not marry her off to strengthen Greece's political ties with other countries. That was the reason Demeter got married in the first place, absurd as it sounded. Political alliances no longer formed via marriages. Yet, try as she might to change her father's mind. She had to marry into the strongest Royal House thinkable, and what better choice than the oldest dynasty in Europe?

Entering the garage at Amalienborg Palace, she was greeted by her children and her husband. The King, holding her hand tightly, accompanied her to the first car. The children would follow in another car. As they passed through the Palace gates, they were welcomed by a hoard of photographers eager to take a picture of their queen before she left for Athens. Once they were driving through the streets of Copenhagen, the Danish King turned to her and asked her in Danish:

"The Royal Jet is already waiting for you. How do you feel?"

"Happy. Eager."

"I'm glad. It will do you good to see them again. Perhaps then the journalists can come up with a better nickname."

"What, the happy queen?"

"It doesn't sound too bad, does it?"

With a scoff, Demeter looked outside the window. In about five hours, she would be back home. Her husband had to stay in Denmark, but no one would mind.

After all, it was only an informal family celebration.

* * *

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB  
_

I sit before the mirror in my boudoir, catching my hair in a rather messy side braid. The perfect style for spending the afternoon with my ladies-in-waiting, going through my correspondence for this week. Within seven days, I've received three hundred letters from all over the world.

Jeez, I'm a celebrity...

Yes, I have trouble coming to terms with it, too.

Anyway. I'm only wearing a long and baggy white sweater (the softest thing in my wardrobe) and tight black jeans. You know, something comfortable. It's not like I'll be photographed, right?

Right. So, now I must figure out what jewelery go with it. Doesn't matter that it is a simple affair, accessories should always be included in the mix. I open the drawer where I keep all of my bracelets, looking for some huge pink and blue ones I had somewhere. They come with matching long bracelets, but I only wear them on the job, doing engagements and stuff.

Then I notice a familiar bracelet case. When I came back to the Suite last night, I forgot to put it along with the other bracelets because I was an emotional wreck. As if Ares asking me on a date was not enough, my discussion with Hephaestus had done the trick. Neither of us like our lives, but our troubled childhoods and complicated relationship with our parents is not enough to give us a stable relationship. We will destroy each other little by little. A broken person cannot fix another broken person, no matter how much they try. Instead, they'll just hurt each other constantly, even if they do not do it on purpose.

But if I tell Zeus Almighty that. He'll think it's nonsense...

Still, I did keep the bracelet. To keep Hephaestus happy, at least.

Looking at it lying on the dark blue satin, I can't help wondering what it might look like on me. From what I see, it is my size. I place the case on the dressing table and put it on. I clutch it and then I take a good look at it.

Heavens, Hephaestus was right. It does look like it was made just for me. It embraces my hand gracefully and the way the rubies and diamonds were put together compliments my natural colours. Now the question is, what do I have to combine it with?

What, I cannot keep such an extraordinary jewel in oblivion! Yes, I do know if I wear it in public, it will give both Father and Hephaestus vain hopes, but I will feel bad for myself if I do not show it off. Maybe Hephaestus can go have a career as a jewelery designer after I tell everyone who did this. No, nope, the Palace might then make a statement announcing our engagement before I even manage to make it clear to Hephaestus first and foremost that I don't even want to marry him.

Damn it!

I guess I'll just keep it for myself then. It might be a better idea. Keep it away from prying eyes, protect my plan from falling to pieces...

But before I manage to take it off and wear my other bracelets and the simple long silver necklace I was planning to combine with them, the door opens and my friendly maid shows up.

"Miss, the car is already waiting for you."

"Yes, thank you!"

Oh well, I guess I'll leave it on. I'm only seeing my best friends, after all.

What harm could it possibly cause?

* * *

 _Waiting Room, Royal Palace_

Athena fixed her lipstick. She hated wearing red in front of the cameras, but it was the only one she had in handy. She always carried it in her purse, just in case. One of the things she disliked about being a royal was the sense of vanity. One had to look good at all times - especially if said person was a woman. Makeup was part of the job, no matter how uncomfortable it made her feel. With a sigh, she closed the compact mirror and threw it back into her black purse. Staring at her reflection in the window, she fixed her brown leather jacket. When she was done, she looked at the crowds gathered outside.

The TV crews had already set out their equipment, creating a lively atmosphere on the marble patio outside. Cables, cameras, microphones, lights, and so on and so forth... All for her. In a couple of minutes, she would step outside to make a statement about her return to Greece. She didn't have any notes to help her or a short speech to memorize. She had thought very carefully about everything she'd say during her four-hour flight.

Although she was always an early riser so that she could get as much work done as possible, today she was feeling more tired than usual. She blamed it on the exhausting week she had had. Working at the Greek Embassy in London as well as carrying out engagements on behalf of Greece and the Crown was keeping her busy at all times - often until after midnight. But she never complained. In fact, she was feeling blessed to be a part of that family. Born the illegitimate daughter of the then-Crown Prince, she would not have had any chances of ever being the second in line to the throne wasn't it for a tragedy. Her mother had died of implications a few hours after her birth. She could have ended up in an orphanage wasn't it for Zeus' generosity. Him legitimizing her also gave her a title, thus ensuring for her a life in privilege and luxury. Therefore, she felt it was her duty to serve her father and the institution that her family represented to the best of her abilities.

Even if that involved making statements and wearing makeup.

Wasn't it for her aunt Hestia, she would have arrived at the Royal Palace still looking like a tramp.

Athena had caught the earliest morning flight from London to Athens, accompanied by her assigned secret-service man. She had moved to the British capital a couple of months ago, after she had finished her studies in Oxford. Her decision to pursue a second Master's degree in Diplomacy had earned her more criticism than praise from the Greek media and rightfully so - the tuition fees in Britain were awfully expensive. Yet Zeus had reassured her that she was free to do it if she really wanted to do it. Returning the favour, Athena studied under the name 'Athena Olympios', thus making her yet another student among the many. Nine months later, she received the degree with the highest of honours, under the name 'Princess Athena of Greece', much to the surprise of her friends, who were oblivious to her true identity. Having grown sick of Oxford and wishing to serve her country to the best of her ability, she had prompted to remain in England and sought employment at the Greek Embassy, where she could train her skills freely. Happy as she would have been to continue working under the title-less name that had become her alias, the Ambassador advised her to use her full title, since it was also written on her passport. Despite Athena's initial persistence to go under the name 'Athena de Grecia', soon enough she realized the true power of her title and the doors that it could open to all the people that came to her for help.

To her, being royalty meant serving your country and its people to the best of your ability and she was determined to do just that. But she was also realistic. Aphrodite was the Crown Princess, her senior by just eight months, and she would certainly have children one day. Thus, Athena had to seek out a career of her own. It was one of the many reasons she pursued a second graduate degree. Her ambitions extended far beyond cutting ribbons, giving speeches, and appearing at royal engagements whenever the time called for it. She wanted to make decisions, yet not be in the spotlight. A career as an ambassador would have been idea for her, had she been further down the line. Well, if she was lucky enough, Aphrodite would have a couple of children before their father's abdication and therefore she could pursue her dream then. Aphrodite had a lot more friends in Parliament than Athena would have hoped for, anyway. But that had always been the way. Men never really liked women with minds of their own or who dared speak their minds freely. Aphrodite did that, yes, but she always managed to get away with it because her remarks were rather stupid, funny, and did not harm the country's politics. According to the journalists, on the other hand, Athena's liberal views would bring forth political instability. No one wanted a ceremonial head of state with views and ambitions as to how their country should be run.

But Athena didn't mind it. She was not selfish enough to seek the spotlight and neither was she stupid enough to cause more discord than she already had. Somehow, the circumstances surrounding her birth and her different character came to a very stark contrast with the personalities of her siblings. She was not self-centered, or over-indulged in herself, and neither did she like to cause trouble. Yet she was born out of wedlock and, try as her might to forget about it, neither her parents nor her siblings would help her forget it.

Her record could not compare to Aphrodite's of course. Not only had the Crown Princess completed a training at the Greek embassy in Washington D.C. but she had often attended various events in the United Nations, where she had represented Greece. Nevertheless, for the second-in-line to the throne, Athena's record was also impressive.

Now that she was back to her beloved Athens, she would go back to some of her old habits. Driving, for instance. She had gotten to the Royal Palace on her green KIA SUV, which she kept parked at Tatoi. Since her studies had put a strain in the Royal Family's finances and the cost of living took the most part of her appanage, she bought a bicycle and rented a tiny apartment, both in Oxford and in London. It was a much simpler life than the one she led in Greece, but much as she wanted to do her duty, she also missed her homeland terribly.

At least she would not return to England until early January. Therefore, she had all the time in the world to cherish every moment in the city that she loved so much and which she called home.

"Are you nervous?"

Athena was not at all startled by the sound of her father's voice. Rather, she was expecting him to check on her sooner or later.

"Right now, my biggest problem is the colour of my lipstick," she replied.

Zeus stood beside her. Now they were both staring at the journalists conversing with their colleagues on the patio, waiting either for someone to announce the Princess, or Her Royal Highness herself appearing.

"I thought that red was supposed to make women feel confident," Zeus remarked.

"That's true. If you want people to pay attention to your face, rather than your words!"

Zeus snickered. "Your outfit does look appropriate, however."

"Thank you. Aunt Hestia thought so, too."

When she had arrived at Tatoi Palace, she was still in her traveling outfit - a much-worn pair of grey jeans, a blue sweater, and a white jacket. Zeus had sent a chauffeur to take her and her bodyguard to the Palace where Athena would be staying, much to her dismay. She had kept repeating to her father that she could just take a taxi. Nevertheless, she cherished the comfort of the luxury Mercedes and slept throughout the entire drive to the Tatoi. Yet the minute she got there, she hardly had any time to greet her other relatives who would also stay there. The minute Hestia had noticed her clothes, she told her, "Go and change into an outfit fit for the Princess that you are!" Much as taking a nap was much more preferable, Athena prompted for a beige and black knee-length dress, a brown leather jacket, and brown heeled boots. It was certainly not the show-stopper Hestia might have had in mind, but it made Athena look fresher and not as overworked or sleep deprived as she was.

"By the way," Athena added, "the thing you said to me about the stolen artifacts?"

Zeus turned to face her. He had told her everything about it since the day that it had happened and had made sure to keep her updated since. Just in case he needed her precious advice.

Athena, too, was looking at her father. Confidently, she said, "It looks like a prank to me."

Zeus grinned: "I thought so, too."

"All evidence leads to Hera. She is responsible for the staff and she, too, is the only person that could hide the antiquities in a place secure enough for no one to see. Eris could have kept it a secret, of course. But she loves to talk! I think that was the mistake the NIS agents did, they interrogated her too late. If they had done it early on, Hera's influence on her would not have been that great and they could have solved the case more easily. I do wonder what they were so afraid of. It's not like they can get arrested. Your wrath, perhaps!"

Zeus couldn't smile any more proudly. "I see you do not read all those mystery novels for nothing!"

Athena scoffed. "The one I read lately is very great. It's called _Common Sense_!"

"You are so much like your mother! Awfully smart, funny, can read between the lines..."

"I know," Athena said touching his arm. "You remind me every day."

Zeus brought his hand on hers and rubbed it tenderly. He felt a rush of nostalgia rush over him, as it did every time he remembered Metis. As was the case with all of his daughters, Athena, too, was her own mother's carbon copy. Other than Metis' beauty and brown hair (which Athena had dyed a dark blond, much to his disappointment), Athena had also inherited her mother's cleverness and her unmatched guile and wit. Much as he loved his children the same, Athena had a special place in his heart. It was not easy, to be the sole living parent of a child like Athena, although he and Hera had done their best to raise her together.

He knew that Athena and Hera had a special relationship. In fact, they were much closer than either of them were to Aphrodite or any other member of their family. Maybe Hera saw in Athena the daughter she wished she would have had. Whatever it was that made these two women get along, it worked perfectly.

Athena kept staring on the hustle and bustle unfolding outside the window. Placing her purse on the floor, she said:

"Right. Time for me to go and be eaten by the wolves!"

With a scoff, Zeus nodded. Determinedly, Athena stepped outside. She was immediately surrounded by reporters, who were awaiting her statement and were eager to ask her a few questions.

Zeus was rubbing his chin, watching his daughter proudly speak before the cameras. Even if she had the slightest amount of fear, stress, or exhaustion, she did not let it show. On that domain, she was just like Aphrodite - fearless to stand before the cameras or to make a speech. But that was where the similarities ended.

Much as he hated to admit it, Athena was every inch the queen he had hoped Aphrodite would become. But tradition was tradition. Plus, Aphrodite's fame, charisma, and background made her a more favourable choice over Athena.

His hands were tied.

If only Aphrodite, too, would realize that.

* * *

 _Kifissia, Northern suburbs of Athens_

The TV's on, my back is facing it, and I hear a familiar voice.

"I am very happy to be back in Greece and I would like to thank all of you for the very warm welcome."

I turn to look at it. Yup. I was right. It's Athena. She goes on blubbering about her return, as if she has brought the Parthenon Marbles with her. Well, she surely does get treated like she will be the one to put an end to this endless debate. Sitting on the floor as I am, I turn to Thalia, who happens to walk by carrying her cup of coffee.

"Do turn it off, please!"

Without much protest or surprise, she does as she is told. Yet, she can't help commenting:

"The party is just getting started, huh?"

There is something I need to tell you about Athena and me. There's an urban legend that Athena and I are close. Bosom buddies kind of "twins". Well, let me tell you the crushing truth. It's a load of silly rumours.

I actually don't like Athena. At all. And I have solid proof that she feels the same way about me. In fact, we downright avoid each other like the plague. I'm not exaggerating. I can't even remember the last time I spoke to her and I don't miss her one bit. She's in Britain and I'm all over the place. That's more than I need to know.

Oh, no, don't worry about us. It's how we roll. I still can't believe how I could possibly be related to that woman!

If you want me to make it exactly clear to you just how different we are, think of Mame and Vera from the musical _Mame_.

She's Vera. Always trying to steal the spotlight from me, the prude.

On the very few occasions when we do have to endure each other, we make a perfect drawing room comedy. We constantly insult each other while making it look like a compliment. Literally. It is the only way to avoid Zeus Almighty's endless lecture. He's given it plenty of times as we were growing up. "You are sisters, you are only a year apart, so you had better work together for the good of the country!"

Well. She's my half-sister, only eight months younger than me, and last time we did something together willingly, we were four years old and stole the chocolate cake from the kitchen cabinet.

Then I shoved it all to her face.

Such a waste of chocolate, thinking about it.

But, The Big Boss cannot accuse us of not following the tradition. Just think of every single royal pair of siblings out there. Perfect blueprints. She's Elizabeth, I'm Margaret. She's Victoria, I'm Madeleine. No, wait, that's a rather unfortunate comparison. No one knows the Swedish princesses except for the Swedes (duh), the royal watchers, and the fellow royals. Plus, Vikkan has much more of a personality than 'Mrs. IQ 400'. Alright then, she's William, I'm Harry. With better looks and much better hair. The point is, she's bland, and I am the character. There. Fixed it for ya. It's rather ironic, actually, how we both look like carbon copies of our respective mothers yet we seem to have inherited Zeus Almighty's personality. Just cut it in half, give the positives to Athena and let the naughty parts to me. She's intelligent and I'm temperamental.

Ever since I can remember myself, Athena has been overshadowing me. Our father never let us forget about it. Athena was the intelligent one, the leader of the pack, the one that never whined about her position and used it to her advantage instead, the responsible one, the one that will never let you down, the determinate and stubborn one, His Majesty's pride and joy...

No, wait, I'm the joy. It's what he'd always say to us. "Athena is my pride, Aphrodite is my joy." Not even a connector to figure out which daughter is the best one. When I was little, I was definitely his joy. I was everyone's joy! I was rowdy, wild, would sing random songs out of the blue for absolutely no reason, the staff kept comparing me to a little porcelain doll because of my blue eyes, blond hair, and the dresses my French Nanny and Mother would dress me into. I have also had my fair share of antics too. One for each day of my childhood, in fact.

Athena, on the other hand, was never seen without a book in her hands. She was always the responsible one, the quiet one, the one that just sat down on a chair and enchanted everyone with her wide knowledge... She's always had her way with words, this one. And she can go on and on and on and on about Nietzsche and Kafka, literary impressionism and and other such things that might as well be Chinese to me... When we were teenagers, I was the party animal that did the job even when she didn't have to while Athena only did a royal engagement here, a speech there, and practically camped in the library at the Royal Palace studying military history. Which Zeus Almighty kept insisting I ought to do as well. He was so damn eager for us two to bond, actually, that he even sent us to basic military training together. He had used our "close ages" as an excuse and wouldn't take no for an answer. To Athena, the Army felt like home, but it was hell for me. I didn't let it show, of course. I wouldn't want Zeus to favour Athena to the point that he'd make her the Crown Princess over me.

So good to have a sister you can communicate with, isn't it?

What? Sorry. Yes, I'm in Thalia's apartment in Kifisia, one of the wealthiest suburbs of Athens. Apartment buildings are a rarity here, considering that the entire area consists of luxury mansions with well-tended and spacious gardens, but it's something for three single girls, each living on their own. (Euphrosyne and Aglaia live in the same building, only on different floors. Coincidence, I guess). I am here because I have grown sick and tired of drinking coffee in a cup that either has the House of Olympios' Coat of Arms or the logo of the hotel drawn on the china.

Now, let me explain that I have known my ladies-in-waiting since we were little. We were classmates, they're triplets, and I appointed them in that position because I do need people I can trust. They deal with my correspondence, accompany me on engagements and foreign trips, and are in general my full-time friends. They have endured me for twenty years, but at least now they're also getting paid for it.

Normally, they work at the Royal Palace - especially since this is where all the correspondence is sent to - but I told them that we can conduct it either in the Royal Suite (all hail the martinis!) or to Thalia's apartment. There were a few protestations, but thanks to Lydia making the necessary phone calls, the Palace was ensured that it was all right and so, here I am!

Oh, I brought Blanche along too. Figured that she also needed a bit of a change. She wasn't quite herself lately but now she keeps running around, barking and waging her tail, shredding all over the place, and now even the letter box is filled with her hair.

"Right!" I say as I tap my laps, Blanche comes close and rubs herself against me looking for a hug, and my ladies just wait for my orders.

I point to the boxes carrying the letters and go, "Let's dig in, shall we?"

Let's face it. I worry more about my future subjects than my own sister.

Swell, huh?

* * *

 _The King's Office, Royal Palace_

"His Royal Highness, Your Majesty."

Ares entered the imposing room, curious as to what his father might have wanted to talk to him about so eagerly. Although he could guess that it would have to do with the scar in his eye, he had hoped that Athena's arrival would've made Zeus forget about it. The King always seemed to be in his best of moods when all of his children were around. It gave him the illusion that they were a real family perhaps.

Much to his surprise, Zeus was still not done going through government papers. The time of the day where he retreated to read bill drafts and other confidential documents was sacred to Zeus and he would demand that he was not disturbed by anyone and for whatever reason. Ares knew little about how it worked but he was pretty certain that Aphrodite should have been the one Zeus was handing some of these documents to and not Athena. She was standing there, next to her father, reading a bill draft, seemingly not at all bothered by Ares' presence in the room.

Zeus, on the other hand, threw a nearby newspaper at him the minute he saw him. Without further ado, the King jumped straight to the topic: "What on earth is the meaning of this?"

The newspaper had landed on the floor. Ares took it and opened it. It was that tabloid that featured the picture of him knocking down Aphrodite's bodyguards on the cover. Hurriedly, he tried to explain:

"This happened two days ag-"

Yet that seemed to infuriate Zeus further: "I don't care if it happened last year!" He stood up, but remained behind his desk. He was supporting himself on it, leaning forward. It made him look more domineering. "I might have left you on your own so far, because your mother asked me to. Now, I need an explanation. Man to man."

"Then what is Athena doing here?"

Ares' remark made her aware that she needed to leave. But when she excused herself, Zeus held her arm to stop her.

"No, you're staying here," he said, looking at her. "This might be a private matter, but you are family. Let us see if Ares is telling the truth this time." Turning to Ares, he furthered: "Now, if you don't mind, I would like to know what you were doing in front of your sister's suite. And in the restaurant last night. As far as I am concerned, I do not remember her inviting you there in either case."

Ares decided that the best course of action was to tell his father the truth. Most of it at least: "I was drunk and she took me in."

Zeus did not seem amused: "Did she? And what about the restaurant? Did you want to... thank her for her hospitality?"

"I went out to dinner with my Private Assistant. He's a good friend of mine."

Zeus pursed his lips. Ares knew very well what that meant. Both his parents would do that when they had grown angrier than they already were.

"I believe I have made it clear more than once that we should not befriend our staff. They are our employees. I agree, my decision to make us more approachable to the people by showing them little glimpses of our private life might have harmed our privacy. But, whatever happens behind closed doors should stay there. Whether it has to do with your sister or your aides. Am I not right, Athena?"

Athena, who tried to seem discreet by re-reading the bill draft she was holding, looked up. She had already heard what was going on and so she simply nodded: "Yes, Father, I believe so."

Zeus put his hands in his pocket and relaxed his body. "There you have it."

To Ares, all of that crap was nonsense! It wasn't the first time he had visited Aphrodite's suite or dined at her hotel. What about all those mornings where he would go there to work out in her private gym? Zeus did not complain to him then. Unless he was the one that had instructed that bodyguard to photograph pages of Aphrodite's diary. Ares had to keep the promise to himself that he would protect her from harm, come hell or high water. That was his chance to put an end to it.

Copying Zeus' body language, he looked at his father and asked him straight out: "What about spying, then?"

Zeus wasn't alarmed. In fact, he had hardly understood the question. "What of it?"

Ares decided to help him: "I think that Aphrodite is getting spied on by her own staff."

Zeus removed one hand from his pockets and took a random pen from the desk. He was clicking it constantly to indicate that Ares had crossed the line. Another sign that the Prince was all too familiar with.

"We hire her staffers," the King said calmly. "The Queen and I. They follow our instructions. It's for her own safety."

So, it was Zeus' doing after all. Ares' suspicions were correct. Hera would have nothing to win out of spying on her step-daughter. But for Zeus, his entire legacy and the future of everything he cherished and had fought so hard to keep depended on Aphrodite's behaviour. Yet, even Ares couldn't believe that he would have been capable of something as extreme as that!

"Own safety, my ass!"

He knew that he had shouted and cursed at his father and King. But he didn't care. After all, Zeus had taught him to treat people the way they deserved to be treated. Time for him to get a small taste of his own medicine.

Yet, Zeus refused to lose the upper hand: "Your sister is the Crown Princess," he said, raising his voice. "It is my and your mother's duty to care for her well-being."

"That bodyguard was violating her privacy! He was taking pictures of her diary!"

Zeus looked confused. He had no idea what Ares was talking about, much as he acted as if his father was to blame for everything. Zeus couldn't remember making such an agreement with that security officer he had hired to spy on Aphrodite. As far as he was concerned, his duties started and ended at keeping a close eye on the Crown Princess as much as possible. Unless Hera was behind it. But she had nothing to do with such things. Their security details did not belong to the household. That could probably be yet another of her numerous secrets. It wouldn't surprise him. As soon as he would call it a day, Zeus would find her. The unfinished business between them had to close, once and for all. He was no longer patient enough to endure her stupid games.

Athena, however, had a different, more rational explanation: "He might have wanted to sell to the press. Some royal employees are known for doing that."

It only made Ares more persistent: "That's one more reason for you to fire him!"

"I don't see the need," Zeus replied. That bodyguard had done an excellent job so far and he was an expert at following orders. If Hera was behind it, he could put an end to it. Then, Aphrodite would get back that little bit of privacy she deserved. But there was also Ares' protectiveness to take care of: "I think you have already made it pretty clear that he should never violate her private sphere again. I can see it all over your face. Literally."

Ares caught Zeus' reference to the scar under his eye. "I had no choice but to attack him. I needed to defend her."

"And now, every single person that looks at you knows that," Zeus said mockingly. "As for Aphrodite, it is for her own good. She cannot help that she has a rather... uncontrollable personality. She is friends with the wrong people and it is my duty as her father and sovereign to make sure that she is kept away from harm. She is the future of this country. The sooner both of you realize it, the better."

Zeus waked towards his desk again. Ares clenched his fists behind his back, trying to control his temper. But his father was not done yet. Sitting back on his chair, he added: "And if you want my honest opinion, she did well to kick you out. You had no business to spend the whole day in there either way. You want to protect her. That is your duty as her brother. But I have already taken care of that. She has four bodyguards to follow her around the clock. She doesn't need a fifth one. Once you manage to get over your selfishness and try to see things from my perspective, you will see that I need to give this country an successor that will not let them down, because she cannot control her temper!"

Calmly, Ares responded: "What about Athena, then? She was the spare last time I checked."

Her birth order alone made her the most important royal after the King, the Queen, and Aphrodite. The only things standing between her and the throne were an abdication and a tragic accident that would cost Aphrodite's life. For Ares, it was a terrifying prospect. In more ways than one.

Zeus' words did not seem to help much: "Athena is different."

"I forgot!" Ares was shouting still. "She's the special one! The apple of your eye!"

"That's enough!" Zeus let out, throwing the pen on his desk. "In a few days, you go back to Alexandroupoli. Until you depart, I do not want to find you in the tabloids again. Or, if I do, I don't want Aphrodite to be involved in any of this. She has worked hard to get herself to where she is. She enjoys the nation's love and respect now. I wouldn't want you to destroy it. You may go."

Ares was shocked. So that's what it was all about then. Zeus was basically ordering him to stay away from Aphrodite. Could he have been suspecting something?

"But -"

"I said, you may go."

Furiously, Ares bowed his head and, walking backwards, he walked out of the room. Once the doors behind him closed, Athena closed the file she was holding. Zeus looked rather tense, so it would not be wise of hers to ask him if he would like to talk about it. The best course of action would be to make him get back to work.

Carefully, she placed the file back on the desk. Getting the message, Zeus opened it and asked her what she thought of it. He would sign it eventually, as he always did. It was just a habit of his to seek out her counsel and opinion, especially on such matters.

* * *

 _National Library of Greece, Athens_

Sitting by one of the many wooden tables, Hephaestus let out a sigh of relief. He had became exhausted after walking along the long corridors, looking for that one particular book. He was not familiar with libraries and every time he needed to find something, he trusted either the Internet or he sent someone else to get him the books he needed. Yet that particular deed ought to remain his own mission.

Carefully, he laid out his notebook, pens, and copy of the novel he had been so eagerly looking for. _Ο Υπέροχος Γκάτσμπυ, The Great Gatsby._

The riddle that Prince Ares had set out for him the night before was still troubling him. Try as he might, Hephaestus couldn't understand His Highness's persistence to give him an answer as to why Daisy chose Buchanan over Gatsby. As much as he was concerned, the Prince was a big brute who got himself in trouble the first chance he got. Aphrodite, too, seemed surprised by her own brother's deep knowledge on the book and its characters. So, Hephaestus figured that the only way he could get to answer all the questions in his head was to ready the book. Although he could have also bought the book, he preferred the Library for its peace and quiet. He was not one who enjoyed big crowds or who liked spending money, unless it was for his own creations. Plus, it was the only place where he could stay for hours and no one would ask him why.

As a matter of fact, he had been expecting to find a very heavy book. It was considered a classic, after all, and as far as he was concerned, those were heavy. But, he was pleasantly surprised to hold a small book in his hands, only about three hundred pages long. If he focused solely on the parts about Gatsby and Daisy, he might be able to solve the puzzle on that very day.

Out of all the questions in his head, the one troubling him the most was not uttered by Ares. When Hephaestus returned home after his dinner with Aphrodite was over, he kept wondering what might have been so important in that love triangle that made someone like Ares persist on it within only seconds of having met his sister's future husband. Wouldn't a small talk about his interests or how they had met been a more normal reaction?

Whom was he kidding? He was marrying into the Greek Royal Family. Normality was not the norm with them.

The more his engagement to Aphrodite approached, the more terrified Hephaestus was growing. Truth be told, he did feel deeply honoured by His Majesty's proposition, but he felt like he was being sent out to the wolves. Aphrodite had become an expert in manipulating public opinion and the media, thus having the talent and the ability to make them believe what she wanted them to believe. The night before had been a shock for him, for he had seen the Crown Princess act in all her glory. But other than drawing all attention on them by bursting out laughing for no particular reason, Aphrodite also did something else.

She had kept the bracelet.

Most likely, it had been an act of pity rather than consent to the whole thing. However, it was progress. Zeus had clapped his hands in joy when Hephaestus had told him earlier the same morning. The King had also reassured Hephaestus that he would be seating on the same table with Aphrodite and her siblings at the gala. "We have already got a few people talking. Getting a few more to speculate wouldn't hurt," were his exact words.

Luckily for both of them, Hephaestus was awfully stubborn. Once he put his mind to something, he would accomplish it to the very end. His plan was simple, yet genius. He would try to understand Gatsby's motives and his love story with Daisy. He would also analyze the character of Buchanan - as much as he could, of course - and try to find what had been so alluring about him that Daisy chose someone like him over Gatsby. He hoped that, at the end of the day, he would have figured out why Ares had been so obsessed with it the night before. He would give him an answer at the gala. Perhaps he could use the book as an opportunity to bond with Aphrodite as well. He could simply ask her her own opinion about the novel, or even if she had any favourites. It was a pretty lame subject and she definitely wasn't the bookworm, but neither was Hephaestus. It might end up being a good first towards breaking the ice between them.

If books would not do the trick, his earrings most definitely would. He had already sketched a few designs but he wanted them to outshine the bracelet. They wouldn't be ready by the night of the gala. Even if they were, Hephaestus would not present them to her then. It would be a chance for them both to meet again, whether at a fancy restaurant or a park.

One thing was for certain, however. Hephaestus hoped that Aphrodite would be a fool. A beautiful little fool. Her voice, her face, everything on her oozed money and fine upbringing. In one single night, she had done many gestures and they all revealed different aspects of her personality - she was sharp, witty, impatient, famous, self-confident, regretful... She was beautiful and she knew it, but, if there was one thing that she and Daisy had in common, they were both fooled by the power of their beauty. They had believed they were unbeatable, that they could control their heart or understand men. Maybe in Aphrodite's case, Hephaestus was wrong. She stroke him as far more experienced than Daisy. They lived in different eras, after all.

 _"I love her,"_ Hephaestus read. _"And that is the beginning and end of everything."_

 _How true_ , he thought as he was noting it down. _How scarily and awfully true!_

* * *

 _Kifissia, Northern suburbs of Athens_

Christmas is my favourite time of the year. Along with my birthday. Just look at all these letters I have to reply to.

Wasn't it for a thing called tendinitis, I would have replied to all those personally. But we are talking about a good few hundreds from all over the world that have arrived - either simple letters, cards, or packages - and they all must be expecting a reply. So, we try the next best thing. For the time being, we are sorting them out. Then I have to sign all of the cards so that my ladies can take them to the Royal Palace early tomorrow morning so that they can be posted. Then, we wait for the next flow of letters to come. For almost a month and a half, this is my weekly routine.

My poor hand must hate me. Sorry, buds. But those people will be very disappointed when they don't get a reply. So, in short, you're screwed.

Euphrosyne, Thalia, and Aglaia already know the drill. They open the letters and read them aloud, then sort them in different boxes called 'Wishes', 'Gifts', and 'Personal'. Trust Lydia to teach us a thing or two about organization. Anyway, the latter box contains all of the letters that have arrived from relatives, friends, exes, and oh's of mine and to whom I will have to take the trouble and actually reply to personally. Niobe knows the trick and for the past couple of years - since she found out I am a real-life princess - she keeps sending me Christmas and birthday cards, for which I have a special reply that looks like this:

 _Dear Niobe (aka my little troublemaker),_

 _On my capacity both as the Crown Princess of Greece and your sister, I would like to thank you very much for your Christmas wishes. In return, I send to you my kindest regards and most heartfelt wishes for the new year._

 _Lots of love,_

 _(my signature)_

For the record, I never sign or write my own title in the replies. It is rather uncalled for. But Niobe is a bit of a show-off and, much as we are trying to cut that habit of hers while we still can, I also love that proud look on her face when she shows it to her classmates to prove to them that she's been telling the truth all along. I have also taken various pictures with her, but she trusts the letters more than the pictures. Kids these days...

Other than that, my normal response to people's letters looks like this: " _Thank you very much for your kind Christmas wishes. I also send you my warmest regards for the New Year"._ In both Greek and English. It spares us a lot of trouble when we receive letters from Greeks living abroad and we cannot be sure whether or not they actually speak Greek. Or just for our fans all over the world. I even received letters from Madagascar and some islands in the Pacific. True story!

It may seem uptight and you're right, but you have to remember that I don't know all of these people. I might have seen them at engagements and stuff, but I only remember their faces, never their names. In my defense, I don't reply through

my Ladies-In-Waiting, Private Secretaries, PA's, Aides-de-Camp, or whoever else seems willing to type out a short letter and I just sign it at the end like, cough cough, Their Majesties or the rest of my siblings do. Their replies look like this: " _Their Majesties The King and Queen of the Hellenes thank you for your kind Christmas wishes and send you their best regards for the New Year"_ or _"Her Royal Highness Princess Eris has asked me to thank you for your season's greetings and to wish you all the best for the upcoming new year"._ Rather stiff and proper, but this is us. No rest for the wicked or hope for recovery.

But everyone gets a card and a picture of the royal they wrote to. It's tradition. It's the closest thing we have to autographs, since we do not give those on walkabouts. Not most of us, at least. Plus, we give post officers an awful ton of work. That's our contribution to national economy at this time of year.

Oh, just a note on gifts: if we send it back, it's not because we don't like it or you. But please avoid sending corporate products or samples. Those will either be returned or destroyed. Although we do appreciate the trouble, we are not models and neither are we associated with companies - ostensibly at least. If you want us to "keep" it (meaning, we will either store it, use it, or donate it), it has to be two things: cheap and - preferably - handmade. Drawings, handicrafts, or even photos you took of us count. Just don't expect to get those back.

One old lady send me a shawl she made herself. She knitted it with lace and then she embroidered a fully blossomed red rose on it with the help of her nurse. It is a marvelous piece, definitely nothing like the gifts I received before. In her letter, she says she had been working on it for the past three years and that she would like to keep it. I could never not do so. It might not be great fashion-wise, but it's handmade. That alone makes it more special than all the wishes I've received.

"Don't send a card to her," I tell to Aglaia, who noted down the sender's name, age, and home address. I forgot to mention that we make a list of all the gifts we receive so that we release it to the public at the end of each year. "I will write to her myself. It's beautiful!"

Euphrosyne agrees. "If you wear it in public, it will also make her happy."

"No, it might destroy it," I reply. "It'd be better to just let her know I kept it. I might even arrange to meet with her! That would make her happy, wouldn't it?"

"Actually," Thalia says, "it does go pretty well with that bracelet of yours!"

 _Shit._

I knew I should have removed it while I was in the car. I could just keep it in my purse and no one would have noticed a thing. Now I'm red-handed. Well, if they haven't watched any TV yet, now they will find out what I did last night...

Her sisters are curious to see it now. They keep begging me to show it to them.

"Fine!" I say, admitting defeat.

I raise up my sleeve to reveal the jewel, and they gather around it, marveling at it. Euphrosyne holds my hand and even touches the bracelet.

"It looks like real diamonds," she remarks.

"It is, silly. All of it. Otherwise, Aphrodite wouldn't be wearing it!" Aglaia replies.

"I'm right here." It's always annoyed me how people would speak about me as if I am not present.

Blanche, curious as to what caused this sudden interest in me, comes close. She must have thought that we were eating and she just wants to join the party. Sorry, girl. It's too early order the pizzas.

"You should wear it at the photoshoot on Thursday!" Thalia suggests.

Don't get excited, I am not going to become a cover girl for Vogue once again. That's the day of the gala. That morning, the whole family will be gathered at Tatoi for the last family portrait of 2006. To be presented to the public on December 28th. Usually, we do it as early as October, but this year everyone's been all over the place. Some of us still are. Just don't tell The Big Boss that.

"All of that is fine, but I want the really interesting bits!" Aglaia says. "Tell us, who gave it to you?"

"Some... guy."

"Is it the same one you went out to dinner with last night?"

I can never hide anything from her!

Rather hesitantly, I say: "Yes..."

That only makes all the more excited. "Well, go on then! Spill the beans! Tell us everything! Where did you meet him, what's his name, is he rich?"

"He must be," Euphrosyne replies. "Look at this thing!"

Normally, I would've smiled. But now, I look like I want to get back to work. I never thought I'd say that.

"Yes, he is rich," I let out, just to get it over and done with. "But I can't tell you his name. Not yet."

"Oh, I see," Thalia exclaims. "It's nothing serious yet."

"I hope it will be!" Aglaia cries. "If you need my advice, Aphrodite, marry him at once. You can divorce him later if you don't like him. But just think how many of those you can have for free!"

It's so much like her, to be drawn to shiny things. But not all of these are gold.

"No way!" I tease her. "You know me! If a man wants to lure me, he needs to try harder!"

"Well, if you don't want him, I can have him!"

"All yours!"

Boy, wouldn't Zeus Almighty just love that!

* * *

 _Palace of Tatoi, Acharnes, East Attica_

Amphitrite stepped into the large drawing room, yearning for a cup of coffee. She had grown tired of her husband's endless whining for the day. But he was right. Hera should not have redecorated Tatoi without having asked for anyone else's opinion before hand. The place looked like a museum, or a miniature Russian Palace. It was not practical for every day use, even though they did have electricity, sockets, and an internet connection. So, Poseidon could work in the King's office as much as he pleased. Provided that Zeus never found out, of course.

Nevertheless, Hera believed that a homely atmosphere was synonymous to Russian decoration. Amphitrite believed that it was the perfect scenery for Christmas, but it was definitely not her taste. Her and Poseidon's house in Porto Heli was strongly inspired by the sea - it gave out an aura that prompted people to relax rather than be stiff and proper. But stiffness and propriety agreed with Hera. Much as the rest of the family did not like it.

"I do hope that Aphrodite keeps her promise and redecorates this place entirely once she's queen!" she said, after noticing Hestia in the room.

Soon she noticed that her sister-in-law was otherwise occupied. A cup of Greek coffee in her hands, Hestia was staring outside the window. Hadn't the rain stopped a few minutes ago, Amphitrite would've thought that she was looking at it. Hestia always loved it, anyway.

She walked closer, hoping that she would not startle her much-older sister-in-law. Hestia was staring at the slim figure of her mother as she was taking a very slow walk in the garden. Staring down, Rhea was talking tiny steps hugging herself as a way to keep her shawl in place. She would always look like that when she was deep in thought. Both Hestia and Amphitrite were too familiar with her body language to know what that meant.

"She has been like that since our arrival in Crete," Amphitrite said.

Hestia was not surprised. Her mother had hardly spoken at dinner the night before and during breakfast the same morning. It was very unlike her indeed, for all the previous times, she would not stop asking about her family - especially her grandchildren. Yet now, all she seems to be interested in is the floor.

"It is just the stress, is all," Hestia replied. "She has not seen the whole family gathered together in one place for more than five years. She needs some time to get used to it."

"I thought so too, but there is something troubling her. She won't tell me what, though. She tried yesterday, on board the Thalatta, but... I couldn't figure out what she wanted to say. She kept saying that something was about to happen."

Hestia remained silent. Amphitrite was not surprised. Her sister-in-law was not a people person, much as she cared about the family and the people working for them. Yet, she was introverted and wished to live a life away from trouble. Over the years, her decision had turned her into a passive human being, merely watching what was happening around her. Yet, to Hestia, that was happiness. She was not the decision-taker and she liked her routine. Very much like Rhea, thinking about it.

"Do you think that there might be something wrong with her?"

Hestia's question took Amphitrite by surprise. Yes, she was suspecting that Rhea might be suffering from depression, that all those years of abuse (what Poseidon and her siblings-in-law had told her anyway) had left their mark on her thus and her loneliness was making it worse. It was not normal for a person that was obviously as family-oriented as Rhea to live like a recluse. But she knew how conservative her in-laws were, how they had been brought up with the idea that they had to be perfect. If she told them that their own mother was mentally ill, they might not believe her. The only way to convince them about it was to make them question Rhea's behaviour themselves and the only way to achieve it was by having them witness it first-hand.

"Why don't you go talk to her?" Amphitrite suggested. Hestia looked at her and nodded. Amphitrite added: "She feels more comfortable around you than me. You're not her daughter-in-law."

Hestia held Amphitrite's hand. Her sister-in-law was familiar with that motion. It was yet another reassurance that she was wrong.

"Mother loves you very much. And Dione and Hera. Even though Dione has not been married into this family for twenty-five years, they still correspond, or so I've been told."

"Nevertheless, you know her much better than I do."

Hestia could not disagree with that. Rhea might have been speaking very fondly about Amphitrite since her and Poseidon's wedding, yet they did not know each other well enough to feel comfortable around each other. But Rhea confided in Amphitrite and treated her like her own daughter. That was a good sign.

With a single touch on Amphitrite's shoulder, indicating that she would follow her advice, Hestia stepped outside. The marble patio was yet by the rain and the drops falling from the tree leaves, despite the wooden gazebo over it. Walking down the stairs, she approached Rhea. When the elder queen saw her daughter smiling at her, she smiled back. Hestia approached her mother carefully, putting her arm around her back and rubbing it softly to keep her warm. The shawl was not as warm as a coat, yet her mother had a habit of forgetting it lately. As if she was doing it deliberately. But she could not tell her that.

"Amphitrite told me you were not feeling well."

Rhea bit her bottom lip. Hestia knew that sign. Something very serious was troubling her.

"I keep seeing your father in my sleep."

Rhea's words alarmed Hestia. Her mother had hardly mentioned Cronus in twenty-three years! It was part of their agreement that they would never speak of him again, not in front of Rhea at least.

The elderly queen added: "He looks... ill. Frail. Much thinner than I remember him." She stopped, to take it all in. She could feel Hestia's eyes on her, yet she avoided her daughter's glare, as if she was ashamed of having such thoughts. "It's odd," she furthered, "but for the very first time in my life, I see him weak."

Hestia did not know how to react to those words. On the one hand, she did not want to doubt her mother's gut feeling, yet on the other, she knew she should say something. Anything. But what?

"He's doing fine," Hestia eventually said. She knew it was the worst possible thing to say, but she hoped it would help Rhea calm down.

Rhea shook her head: "No, he's not. He's not well."

"Would you like to go to Athens? T-to visit... him?"

Hestia regretted her words the second she uttered them. But it was too late. Rhea turned her back to her and tried to walk away, only to approach her again almost immediately. She still did not want to look at her daughter.

"No, I-I shall go for walk."

Rhea walked away, only to be stopped when Hestia asked her: "Would you like me to join you?"

Sternly, Rhea replied: "No, thank you."

Yet, after she had taken a few steps towards the balcony that led to the rest of their garden, she could hear Hestia's voice behind her:

"Mother, I am truly sorry for what I said!"

But Rhea would not turn to look at her. Hestia knew where she was going. To the balcony that led to the rest of the garden, where the swimming pool, the tennis court, and the helipad were. Once she had passed through these, she would go straight to the small forest and then to the graveyard, where all of their ancestors were buried. For some reason, that was Rhea's favourite spot.

Perhaps Amphitrite was right, then. Rhea might be suffering from depression or some other illness of that kind. It wasn't normal for a person, no matter how old they were, to look for comfort and solace in a place that reminded them of death, let alone when their beloved family was already waiting for them in a warm room, with plenty of coffee and homemade snacks.

Then again, Rhea was worried about Cronus' health... As far as Hestia, and the rest of the family, were concerned, their father was still doing extremely well. At least, physically. Yet, all the news they received from him came from his aides, who always said what he had instructed them to say.

Hestia decided then to visit her father the very first chance she got. Him turning down Zeus' proposition to pose for the family portraits did not surprise her, or any of her siblings. Cronus hated getting old and frail and he did not want his 'former subjects', as he called the Greek citizens, to remember him thus. But she had to see if that was the only reason keeping him from showing up at family engagements. Rhea did not like having to attend weddings or other court-related activities either, because of the publicity involved, yet she would always do so for the sake of her family.

She would go the day after the gala, when everyone would be too busy reading about the event to concern themselves over her whereabouts. If she found a present for her father, she could go with the excuse that she wanted to give him that. She did so every year, after all. Except that, this time, she would deliver it to him personally rather than have an aide give it to him.

Rhea would have to know, of course. If only just to reassure her that she was right.

And then they could just wait for the worse to happen.

* * *

 _Afternoon_

 _Spa, Hotel GB_

The water hits my face and I swim in deeper. I move my hands and legs, stubbornly yearning to touch the cold marble in the bottom of the pool. I can no longer hear the relaxing music that fills the room. My ears ache from the pressure but I determined to keep holding my breath. It's a routine.

I always swim to the bottom first thing before I swim the entire length of the pool.

To tell you the truth, I'm not sure why I do it. Seems to be a nice metaphor for my personal life.

My hand slaps the bottom and I swirl around. Then I dive back in so that my foot can touch it. Happy to have accomplished it once more, I swirl around twice.

That's the joy of swimming! The sensation that you can fly. The ability to move your body in a multitude of different ways, like when you're dancing or making love. Like an excellent and gentle choreography, it requires you to use your whole body, to twist and turn it in whatever way you want in order to express yourself and get rid of all the feelings that are troubling you at a given moment. It is totally painless when performed correctly.

I just hate the boring treadmill...

But the hotel administration and my incognito status has always come to my rescue. Here, too. I swim four times a week - six if my schedule allows it. The hotel never allow anyone in there without an appointment. They have learned my routine by now. I don't even need a ticket!

This pool is not made for swimming either but you know me. I have a habit of breaking the rules. Besides, it's deep enough for me to swim freely. Just the way I like it.

Yet another metaphor right there.

The water ruins my manicure and pedicure, but it's a damage that can be fixed. The beautician is already waiting for me, after all. I still have about three hours until I have to go back to the Palace for the dinner Zeus and Hera are holding for their close relatives. I don't need to dress fancily. And this time, I do know what I'm going to wear, thank you very much.

Still, what perfect circumstances for a forbidden romance! With the entire family being around and on the only time of the year where you can never have a moment of peace.

I rise up to the surface. Getting up, I draw a deep breath. At once, I swim to the edge. I never swim with a swimming hat or glasses. It might be for safety reasons, but it ruins the whole experience. As soon as I catch my breath, I dive underwater again. Just for the heck of it.

The girls were right. I am the kind of girl that would marry the man that'd throw the entire world at her feet. After I had shown them the bracelet, we had a long discussion about my choices in men all these years. All that time, I have chased after the ones I thought would do just that and every time I ended up disappointed. And when I decide to spread my wings and fly, no longer worrying about searching for Mr. Right but trusting life to lead him towards me, life or fate laughs at my face. I don't doubt about Hephaestus' feelings towards me being real. The bracelet is proof of that. I should call him at some point and thank him properly, even if that gives hopes to our equally ambitious parents. Zeus Almighty is after their money, they're after our titles. Maybe they should marry each other. That would be fun.

But I no longer have any reason to be cruel towards Hephaestus. I'll give him a chance. You never know what comes out of it. He seems naive enough. He won't understand a thing.

Besides, if there were any paparazzi lurking about when I left the hotel, they must have seen the bracelet. My ladies could notice it. They're good girls and they can keep a secret - just not between them. If their whispers and giggles are overheard inside the Royal Palace, then all that is left for Hephaestus and me to be officially betrothed is a ring and an announcement. Which Zeus will more than gladly grant us.

As for Ares, I will take him on as my lover. We are already pretty much burned by our flaming desire for each other anyway. He noticed too, that's why he acts the way he does. Like a hungry animal, looking for one prey in particular.

The night of the gala will be a big one. For me, at least. When I change into something more comfortable to meet Ares, I won't be leaving just the title and the gown behind. I'll also throw away all those stupid hesitations and prophecies. Let me burn all I want; it'll be more than welcome.

The date will end in us two playing the cat and the mouse again. I don't know where and when exactly, but it will happen. It's bound to.

About time it was.

* * *

 _Private Quarters, Royal Palace_

Hera could not focus on her novel. Zeus definitely knew something about the stolen antiquities. Yet, what exactly, he wouldn't say. Being sneaky was very much like him, always leaving her worrying and speculating until the very last minute, when he succumbed and finally revealed everything. It worked with his 'indiscretions', it worked for business, it worked for life.

But he was the least of her concerns at the moment. Ares, once again, was her priority. She had found out that he had dined at the same restaurant as Aphrodite and Hephaestus the night before. If her suspicions were correct, and he was as obsessed with Aphrodite as Hera had predicted, he would certainly try to destroy her upcoming engagement, so that he would have her all to himself. Unless he went on with it and had her as his married mistress.

No, he would never do that! He was nothing like his father. Ares never liked to share the things he loved, be it toys or people. He would never agree to have Aphrodite as someone else's wife. He would rather have her all to himself. Marry her even, if he could.

Hera closed the book with a thud and removed her reading glasses. She thought that a book would have comforted her and had asked a servant to get her a novel from the small library in the private quarters - whichever looked like it did not require much thinking. She had had enough of that.

Mere seconds later, she heard footsteps rushing towards the main entrance of their apartments. The wall was hiding it from her sight, but she knew it was Zeus. His pacing was familiar. Over the years, she had gotten to know just what he felt each single time just by hearing the sound of his pacing. He sounded determined. Like he was about to end something that was long overdue.

Athena. Naturally! Zeus did not keep anything secret from his beloved daughter and she was smart enough to solve the mystery by herself. Hera felt stupid. Suddenly, the whole plan sounded ridiculous. She had been better at getting rid of his mistresses. In fact, she had been experienced enough in getting rid of them, either by hiding every single trace of theirs or by threatening them. She had left some of them bankrupt or sent them away from the country. She surely had both the means and the influence to ensure their silence. But it was the time for her to admit her greatest falter. She had been so deeply devastated she had been at Zeus taking on a lover that she forgot the number one rule of the game: whatever you do, do not get caught.

Walking into the formal sitting room where he knew he would find his wife, Zeus stood before Hera. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he looked Hera straight in the eye. With a suspicious tranquility in his voice, he said: "We need to talk."


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: This is PART I of the gala chapter. It's going to be a two-part chapter because I have a mammoth 28,000 words in total (o_O). It's very detailed and I can't delete any scenes (believe me, I've tried). So, to make your lives easier, I cut it in two. If you count in the date chapter, then it's a trilogy. Who knew...**

 **I know, some of you were expecting to see tiaras and sashes, but research had other plans - you will see why in this chapter (hint:** ** **read the Aphrodite parts carefully :P)** But don't worry - there are plenty of occasions when royal women can wear tiaras and one of them is coming soon. That's all the spoilers I'll give. I swear, I must have watched every single video of royals celebrating their birthdays, being photographed, or just arriving in places that YouTube has to offer.  
**

 **I also realized, I got the location of Tatoi wrong... Mistakes can happen. That, and geography is weird. Now I have the right one. I double-checked :P**

 **I will try and upload the second part on the tomorrow or on Sunday :) Till then, happy reading and reviews are welcome :)**

* * *

 _21 December 2006_

 _Morning_

 _Palace of Tatoi, Acharnai, East Attica_

The long halls and narrow corridors were full of life. People were coming and going, filling the air with their laughter and conversations. It brought the old Palace back to life.

Once serving as the Crown Princely residence, it now remained empty for most of the year. Occasionally, it would be used as a guesthouse for the minor members of the Greek Royal Family or as a weekend retreat for the reigning couple. Throughout its long history, various princes and princesses had tried to turn it into their primary residence, such as Hades in the 1970s (only to abandon it when he moved into his very own luxurious mansion) and Athena since 2000. Upon her return to Greece, she would move back there. But now, as far as the public was concerned, the Crown Princess occupied it, happy to share it with her younger sister.

Today, however, it served a different purpose. For the first time in decades, it would provide the scenery for the Greek Royal Family's group Christmas portrait.

Since early that morning, both the King's relatives and the royal staffers were making sure that everything was ready. While the maids and gardeners were setting up the Christmas tree (a real one), Hestia, Demeter, Athena, and Amphitrite were sharing their ideas with the royal photographer. He wasn't taken aback by the initiative. Since he had been hired by His Majesty five years ago, he often had to discuss ideas with his employers. He felt lucky to be included in such an exclusive club; the Greek Royal Family had only three official photographers at its disposal. Their job description was simple: give the nation a glimpse into their private lives, always with a little bit of glamour.

Today and tonight would be no exception.

The Queen didn't mind that her sisters-in-law would take care of such matters. She was more than happy to let them do it, for she had other business to tend to. She was currently at the airport with the King and the Crown Princess to welcome their royal guests. From there, they would give them a small tour of Athens and they would escort them to their luxurious hotels before traveling straight to Tatoi for the photo shoot. A few hours later, they would host a private luncheon for their royal cousins at the Dining Room. The estate of Tatoi offered plenty of relaxation and calmness. Located in a forested area a long distance from the city centre, it would give them the privacy they needed to catch up with each others' lives. Talking of, the Dining Room was currently locked, allowing the kitchen staff and the butlers to prepare everything.

But their cousins from Europe weren't the only guests that the King and the Queen were happy to see again. Triton and Rhode had arrived from Porto Heli early the previous evening. It wouldn't be a family portrait without them, after all. Truth be told, the two teenagers were more excited about seeing their family again (especially Hebe) than being included in the photos. They knew that the photos would be shown in the media, printed in the newspapers, and sold as postcards in tourist stores for the rest of the year. To make matters worse, they would be talked about in their school as well. Since their titles intimidated most of their classmates and stood in their way of having many friends, their family was the next best thing. At least they knew the pain...

Oddly enough, they were lucky this year. Due to the Queen's ill health, her absence, and the feverish preparations for the gala, the photos weren't taken in mid-October, as was the case every year. This meant that their release would take a while longer as well. Instead of early December, they would be publicized between Christmas and New Year's Eve.

Still, there was one notable absentee. Cronus had turned down Zeus' invitation to join them. Although everyone was stunned with his decision to turn down yet another opportunity to remind the nation that he was still alive, they were also relieved. Rhea didn't have to worry about crossing paths with him for one more day. Plus, Athena and Demeter's arrivals seemed to have cheered her up. She was smiling a lot more than usual, especially when she was around Triton and Rhode as well. Amphitrite and Hestia were relieved to see her like that for a change.

However, they still left Rhea pretty much on her own, since they were too busy to worry about her all the time. She was currently playing cards with Triton and Rhode in one of the drawing rooms. Her darling granddaughter never hesitated to show how bored of the game she had grown and she kept asking eagerly when Hebe was going to come over.

"Soon enough, I hope," Rhea reassured her. "She is coming with her parents and her siblings."

It was Triton's turn to speak: "I hope Ares arrives on his motorcycle! I want one too, but Father says I have to wait until I'm old enough."

Rhea frowned. For the life of her, she couldn't understand the fuss that her grandsons made about such terrifying vehicles. As for Rhode, she had grown so used to her brother whining about it that she decided to change the subject instead. Turning to her grandmother, she asked: "Are you attending the gala tonight, too?"

"Of course I am, dear! I have to!"

With a thud, Rhode hit her cards on the table and leaned back on her chair, crossing her arms. "Everyone is getting to attend the gala except for us!" she said frustratingly. "Aphrodite was my age when she appeared in public for the first time!"

Rhea gave her a disapproving stare. "Athena did not and neither did any of her younger sisters," she explained. "Aphrodite had no choice. She is the future Queen."

"See?" Rhode replied, looking at a confused Triton. "I told you she has the perfect life!"

Triton hid his face behind his cards, trying not to smile. His sister's admiration towards their cousin was both confusing and amusing to him. Personally, he just couldn't understand why everyone made such a big deal about Aphrodite. Sure, she was the first female future Queen, but other than that, there was hardly anything interesting about her.

For her part, Rhea smiled gently. The older Rhode became, the more she resembled her father. Neither of them could not see how the world was not picture perfect all the time.

But little did they know, life was not all about appearances...

* * *

The past couple of days have felt like the calm before the storm. For real.

Picture it: everything on the outside looks normal. And that's how foolish we are. Normalcy is not the norm with us. The stolen antiquities thing (honestly, what the heck was that?) has been solved. I only know what Lydia told me about it, which is, well, just what happened in general. In short, everyone was an awful mess. And suddenly, voila, everything has returned safe and sound to their rightful owners, who reassured Zeus Almighty and his wife that they still trusted them enough and they wouldn't press any charges against them (phew...), the media don't know a thing, and now Father Dearest looks like he no longer has to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. And here's the best part: all those museums and foundations in Athens will continue to lend us different kinds of artifacts each time, so that they will be on display at the Royal Palace for the next six months, starting tonight. Does this all sound confusing? Yeah, I know. I feel the same way. Like I've missed entire episodes and need to catch up. Not.

Take a deep breath though becomes here comes part two. Ganymede has been dismissed. Remember him? He's the intern that my father screwed. The Big Boss apparently apologized to his wife, Hera hasn't killed him yet, and now everything is fine between them. Until the next time Zeus Almighty is too bored to keep it where he should. Good for him, the public doesn't know about him either though.

This is how things work in this family. I lose my dress by accident and everyone treats me like I've destroyed the country, but Zeus Almighty can get away with murder. Greece, for all our sake, please get your double standards together before it's too late...

But, if Peacock contributed to Ganymede's dismissal, then no one will ever find out about his and Zeus Almighty's affair. Well, what can I say? She's lucky that men don't have wombs. The last time Thunder's private indiscretions turned public was ten years ago. The woman kept claiming that he had fathered a child with her, but the Big Boss and his beloved wife proved her wrong. The Parliament and the Royal Court did force Thunder to do a paternity test but the results never became public. Either they were falsified on purpose or they were destroyed altogether. Anyway, the trick worked, but to make it even more convincing, Peacock demanded from Thunder yet another child. And that, kids, is how Hebe came to be. Poor girl.

Anyway, time for the real juicy stuff. Hephaestus and I have spoken just once since that night we went out to dinner. True to form and good upbringing, I called him to thank him for the bracelet. If only you could hear him! He sounded so excited, as if Christmas had arrived a week early. Still, I don't regret my decision about Ares. It still feels odd to realize that we're a pair now but as long as we're not related by blood, your moral appropriations can fall from my window. Wasn't he adopted, I wouldn't have done anything in the first place. Yes, even I can tell apart right and wrong. Well... most of the time anyway.

Talking of, he hasn't caused any trouble recently. At all. Remember when he set foot in Athens and immediately turned into a destructive hurricane? Yeah, he's calmed down now. Frankly, I don't know if that should scare me or not. Usually, when he's like that, he's got something terrible in mind. If it has to do with our date, then bring it on. Judging by the looks he'd throw at me at dinner, I can predict that this is how tonight will end.

I am not going to tell you. There are people around.

Oh, yes, I forgot about that. I'm in my car, chauffeur and bodyguard in tow, traveling to Tatoi. Blanche is also here (ta-da!) and she's very excited to be photographed along with the entire Royal House of Olympios. Think about it. All of us together in the same room, playing happy families for almost the entire day.

Kill me now.

But, here's hoping that Triton, Rhode, and Hebe will make up for it. They're such lovelies that they can light up the entire room with their presence. Princess Amphitrite will look like a doll as usual, Queen Demeter will be teaching Peacock how to act regal, Prince Hades still won't talk to me (remember that time I almost got him arrested because he scared the life out of me?), Prince Poseidon has certainly dyed his hair last night once more just to annoy his brothers, and Thunder and Peacock are currently still in Athens, entertaining our cousins from Europe. If you're not the kind of person who watches the news (I know I'm certainly not...), let me tell you what happens in such cases.

Take Queen Demeter for instance. The Danish Royal Jet lands at Athens International Airport. The red carpet is already laid out and we are standing there like the idiots that we are, waiting for her to show up. Anyway, after she disembarks her plane, Zeus Almighty greets her like the Queen of Denmark first and his sister second. That means that he kisses the back of her hand as a sign of respect to her country and status and then he kisses her on both cheeks. Contrary to common belief, though, she doesn't curtsy to him. Otherwise, it would seem like Greece is more powerful than Denmark and, boom, a diplomatic crisis emerges. Weird as it may sound to you, this way is supposed to show that all Monarchies are equal. On the other hand, you can never have a person of lower status greet a person of higher status in the same way. Since Queen Demeter outranks me, I have to curtsy to her. When I become Queen, however, we'll be considered to be of equal status and therefore she will greet me like she greets Hera - by kissing each other on the cheek.

Simple and easy, huh?

If you're wondering how I went from there to here, I shall tell you that I actually took a break from drafting replies to all those letters, changed in Thalia's bathroom, and drove straight to the airport to greet my aunt and represent my country on home ground.

Actually, she's not the only special guest that has arrived today. The Norwegian Crown Princely couple and the Spanish King and Queen arrived back to back just to greet moving multi-layered me. I wear a grey ruffle hem wrap skirt with white stripes that reaches just beneath the knee and a ruffle knee-length blue trench coat paired with a chain strap light beige purse and Louboutin floral boots. And a leatherette dark red coat on top. Yes, I know, trench coats are usually not worn as dresses. But then, what's the harm? The Norwegian Crown Princess liked it and so did the Spanish Queen. Hera almost fainted when she saw my outfit, but then again she never understood my sense of style. She did like my fishtail side braid, though.

Something is wrong with her. I had better keep an eye out.

As for the rest of our royal guests (namely the Duke and Duchess of Wessex, the Dutch Crown Princely couple, and the Belgian King and Queen), they arrived between the 19th and the 21st. In that order. By the way, when I have to meet other crown princes and princesses, I just greet them with a handshake and a simple kiss on the cheek. We're equal, after all, so no need to bow or curtsy to one another. Same applies when two kings or two queen consorts greet each other. It's actually very simple: when the other person is of higher rank than you, you need to bow or curtsy. When you're in the same high position, you don't. It's actually way more formal when normal people (so-called 'commoners') have to greet people of our kind. Take us attending film premieres for instance, the actors always get it wrong. Same for everyone else. But those can get away with it. If it's presidents or prime ministers, on the other hand, then they have to read the protocol sheet. They make our lives - especially those of our aides - a lot easier when they do. The etiquette and the protocol that needs to be followed on official state occasions is extremely strict.

True to form and Greek hospitality, however, Zeus and Hera hosted luncheons at Tatoi to honour each of our distant cousins. Remember, all royal families are each other's cousins. It makes for real fun family dinners.

They are actually hosting a small banquet for the Belgians as we speak, which I did not attend because I had to do an engagement. So, in short, my day today has been like this: wake up, get ready, rush to the airport, greet the Belgians, drive straight to the hospital and inaugurate a new children's yard, then rush to Tatoi, be photographed, have lunch with all the royals they could gather, then go back to the hotel, change, do office work with Lydia (mostly to plan meetings and meet with my staff), then take a nap to feel and look refreshed, take a second bath, change into the gown, and off to the gala. And then, finally, I have a date.

It's fine, really. I've had longer days.

The route is actually relaxing. We're passing through row after row of pine trees and an endless sand road. Before we know it, we will have reached the gates of Tatoi. It's the perfect recluse because it's so hard to find, even though it is practically in Athens. Plus, we keep our horses and cars there and the villagers in the estate produce the best wine and goat cheese you've ever tasted.

Hadn't Hera turned it into a Russian museum and Athena declared it her 'rightful' property, I'd have moved in there without a second thought. Honestly, it rather reminds me of my estate in Pafos.

But I cannot move to another country full-time because then chaos will ensue.

And that, ladies and gents, is yet another day in the life for ya!

* * *

 _Two hours later..._

 _Entrance Hall, Palace of Tatoi_

"On the count of three! One; two; three!"

The photographer pushed the button and with a flash, the picture was taken. The Royal Family, however, remained in place with a smile on their faces. They knew the drill. More pictures would have to be taken, so that the Queen could later pick the ones she liked the best.

One thing was for sure though. Everything looked perfect.

They were all standing before the big Christmas tree that was decorated with various colourful ornaments. It'd give off the impression that they were just like any other family out there. They certainly did resemble one.

Zeus and Hera were sitting on the indigo sofa on the foreground. Next to them were Rhea and Aphrodite. As if to symbolize the transition from one generation to the next. Everyone else was behind them. From left to right: Hades, Hestia, Poseidon, Amphitrite, Eris, Eileithyia, and Ares. Demeter prompted against being photographed with them for the official pictures, since she was no longer a member of the House of Olympios.

Rhode, Triton, and Hebe were sitting by the sofa. Blanche was sitting on the front, chewing a toy that Aphrodite had given her to make her stay in one place for more than two consecutive seconds.

"Excellent!" the royal photographer said eventually. "Thank you very much!"

Almost simultaneously, they all let out a sigh of relief and scattered around the room. But Rhea had a different idea: "I would also like one with all of my grandchildren if you'd please!"

The photographer agreed enthusiastically and immediately began to give orders as to where each person should stand. Rhea would sit in the middle. Her youngest grandkids, namely Triton, Rhode, and Hebe would be next to her. Athena, Aphrodite, Ares, Eileithyia, and Eris would stand behind them. Blanche had better stay where she was.

The minute Aphrodite stood next to him, Ares did not waste another second. Taking out a small piece of paper from the pocket of his trousers, he closed it in his fist. Very carefully, he ran his finger over Aphrodite's hand. She opened it and he pushed the little note inside her fist.

"All right, on the count of three!"

They all smiled and the photographer took the picture.

"Marvelous! Thank you!"

While their siblings were walking away, Aphrodite threw the small piece of paper into her purse. A master at discretion, she threw it in when no one was looking.

Ares grinned. It worked!

Zeus stood in the middle of the room: "Now, it is time for the unofficial pictures! You know, the ones for our family albums!" He didn't need to make the announcement. Everyone knew how the photoshoot would unfold. They had talked things through in advance.

"May I ask His Majesty and all of his siblings to join me in his office for a picture?" the photographer asked. His camera was hanging from his neck, so changing the scenery was child's play.

Hades, Poseidon, Demeter, and Hestia followed Zeus to his office. That room was his personal favourite. It was decorated with swords and various awards and honours that their family had received over the years. It offered the best display of wealth, privilege, and power of their dynasty. So, it was only natural that he would want to be photographed there, at least once. Since those pictures would be kept away from the public eye, there was no harm in Demeter joining in.

In fact, she was more than happy to do so.

* * *

The Big Boss has disappeared from sight and he forgot to take his wife with him.

Man, this guy can't do anything right... But Hera's presence seems to be the least of Ares' problems. He keeps staring at me like he's the bee and I'm the honey. I want to avoid him at all costs, but I'm also curious to see what he wants from me now. Carefully, I open my purse and unfold the small note he gave me.

 _Dress like you're in New York._

Perfect. Just perfect. A reminder of our date is just what I needed right now.

So, what is the best course of action?

Facing Athena.

Just because.

After all, she is the spare to my heir.

There is a small table serving beverages by the long window and I approach it. Pouring myself a glass of orange juice, I make it sound like a chance encounter:

"Athena!" I say, pretending to be happy to see her. Perhaps she is gladder than me about our encounter, for she chokes on her orange juice (they're serving beverages in the corner of the room). I further: "Darling, how are you?"

Meaning, _'I'd ask how you are, but I don't really care'._ I've avoided her to all the occasions we happened to have attended together these past few days. Surely she has gotten the message by now.

As soon as she gets herself together, she replies: "Fine, as a mater of fact!"

She looks at me, I look at her, and we still both hate each other. Not that I doubted before. I just know for sure now.

"How about you?" she asks.

The way we look at each other can be described very simply: Boy, if looks good kill!

I am not as stupid as she thinks, though. Neither am I scared by her feisty glare anymore.

"Excellent!" I reply proudly, while taking a close look at her clothes. She is wearing a cream blouse with grey sleeves from a couple of seasons ago, a pair of grey jeans and nude high heels. Other than her red lipstick, she's not wearing any other hint of makeup and her only accessory is the necklace she wears all the time. A gift of Zeus Almighty for her eighteenth birthday. Or so rumour has it. "If I may," I add, trying my best to sound concerned. "Is this the best outfit you have brought with you? It looks great on you but... No offense, dear. I would have expected London to somehow affected your style. After all, it is a very fashionable town!"

I didn't come up with that last line. I simply read it in a magazine and liked the way it sounded.

She smiles slyly. Oh, I hate it when she does that!

"On the contrary," she says. "I did not 'dress to impress'. I wouldn't want to overshadow anyone!"

She's playing tough. All right then.

"Standing out is a gift given generously to so many little!"

It is the best I can come up with. You may not like it, but I am proud of it.

"I wonder why." She sounds as if she has won this round. "I've heard that the spotlight can show off your flaws rather than your perks. I don't need to look far to find a living example of it."

She takes a sip of her juice. All the while, she is looking at me. She doesn't need to. I may not be half the genius she believes she is, but I can recognize an offensive remark when I hear one.

All right, then. Off with her!

I walk away, just as when Thunder and his siblings come back to the foyer from his office.

I take offers. Who wants to be photographed next?

* * *

The photo session went on for another hour. Since no other picture would be taken in the entrance hall and they would be photographed in smaller groups from now on, they decided to spend their time catching up with one another. After all, it had been months since they had had such a reunion.

Hestia, Demeter, Rhea, Amphitrite, and Hera were currently having their pictures taken in the large drawing room. His wife's absence gave Poseidon the opportunity to confess to Zeus something that had been troubling him for a while now: "You should've hired a damn decorator yourself. This place makes me feel like I'm freaking St. Petersburg."

Zeus couldn't disagree with the remark. Hera had wanted to pay tribute to the Farm Palace in Peterhof, whose plans were the blueprint for the Palace of Tatoi. It sounded like a good idea at first, but even Zeus believed that the decoration was a bit too Russian and museum-like for their taste. Yet, it made up for it by providing them with all the modern amenities they could imagine. All they needed to make that place perfect was an internet connection.

But Zeus didn't have a reputation for agreeing with his brother. "The renovation cost taxpayers ten million euros!" Zeus replied.

"I can give you twenty, as long as I don't walk in here and feel like the Communists want to kill me!"

A lower and huskier voice was heard behind them: "And they would have a very good reason to do so indeed!"

Both men turned to look at Hades. At fifty-four, he looked younger than both his brothers, a fact he blamed on him not having a wife. He was slightly taller than his brothers, always dressed in dark colours, and he always kept his hair as short as possible. He approached them with a smile and patted them both on the back.

"It's time for me to go. I should have waited for the women to be done playing the models first, but business can't wait." Then he turned to Poseidon: "By the way, stop dying your hair. You look ridiculous. I wonder how Amphitrite puts up with it."

Poseidon pretended to be offended: "I told her that men in our family get white hair much later in life. It's not my fault that both of you got old prematurely!"

"Come on!" Zeus teased. "We both know Amphitrite is smarter than that!"

Hades laughed and patted his brothers on their backs again. "Well, I have to go. I'll see you two losers tonight. Bring your wives!"

"We won't forget!" Zeus said, raising his glass.

Soon enough, the four women and the photographer entered the hall again. It was now Aphrodite's turn. She would be photographed with the children and Blanche to the garden. Theirs were the last pictures of the photo shoot. Then, they would welcome their distant relatives.

No one questioned Hades' absence, even though it was noticeable. They knew that he did not enjoy such gatherings for long, unless he really had a reason to stay.

* * *

Demeter was looking outside the window, enjoying a glass of orange juice. It was such a wonderful sight! Aphrodite was tossing Blanche's ball and the dog was rushing to take it, chased after by the children. Then Hebe and Rhode fell to the ground and Blanche approached them, ball in mouth and waging her tail while Aphrodite was bursting out laughing. All the while, the camera never stopped flashing.

Next to her, she heard Amphitrite's voice: "It's the best picture we have taken as a family in years! And the only one where Triton doesn't make a funny face!"

She and Hera were talking about their Christmas card photos. Demeter joined them:

"We used the family portrait we took at Amalienborg in October," Demeter said. Her eyes fell on Hera. She was staring at Ares. He was standing a short distance away, also staring out the window. "How about you, Hera?"

She flinched, but she immediately answered the question: "Oh, we used the official portraits we took for the one hundred forty-third anniversary of the founding of our dynasty. You do remember the banquet we hosted in the Royal Gardens!" That occasion took place every June and the entire Greek Royal Family wore their best tiaras and sashes.

The other two women nodded. Taking a sip, Demeter took one last glimpse outside the window. The game was still going on.

"How about Aphrodite?" she asked. "What did she use for her Christmas cards?"

"A self portrait of her and Blanche," Hera explained. "You know how much she loves to take pictures of herself or her dog. She took that one during her tour. I personally believe it should have remained private. She lies on her stomach on a big bed, holding the camera close to her and Blanche's faces. Blanche sits in front of her and they both smile widely."

"It sounds cute!" Amphitrite remarked.

"Yes, but not appropriate for the official Christmas cards!" Hera persisted.

Ares scoffed. He could never understand what joy women found in gossiping. His mother and aunts were doing so and so were Eris and Eileithyia. Athena was talking with Poseidon and Zeus. Thus, he was left alone. It was better this way. He could take in the sight without anyone disturbing him.

Aphrodite looked breathtaking today. More than she did all the other times. Her multi-layered outfit was flowing in the breeze, giving him a teasing hint of her long and shapely legs. As if she could read his mind, she remained in place. She was obviously enjoying the attention.

He couldn't wait until three in the morning. He had a great surprise in store for her. And she was in for the ride.

All he had to do was wait.

Even though the anticipation was just plain torture.

* * *

 _Evening_

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

My dresser zips up my dress. I stand before the full-length mirror, taking in the sight.

The Gucci gown looks as great on me as it did the last time I wore at the final rehearsal. When she is done, she steps aside, allowing my friendly maid to hand me my earrings. I put them on and then she helps me put on my long black gloves. Meanwhile, my spying maid helps tidy up. Concurrently, my hairstylist takes a picture of my hair. I am wearing it in a nice little loose half-up (he calls it 'a reckless braided crown'), held in place with a long black hair clip.

"You look stunning, Miss!"

That's my makeup artist. Each single time, she simply outdoes herself and tonight is no exception. She stuck mostly to nude colours, keeping it as natural as possible. I wanted the lips to stand out however (I have my reasons) and so, she used a very old but very simple trick - scarlet lipstick. Yet, to keep it from looking out of place, she used darker tones for the eye makeup. That's the trick. Choose one part of your face that you'd like to stand out. If it's the lips, pay extra attention on the eyes but not so much on the cheeks. And vice versa. However, if you want to accentuate your cheekbones, just put on some lipstick, do nothing with the eyes, and you're good to go.

My friendly maid holds out my jewelery box: "Will you be wearing any other jewelery, Miss?"

"No, thank you."

My gown is made of gold sequin, decorated with black details just beneath the shoulders. I can only wear my small golden and diamond earrings, shaped like a rose. Otherwise, I will look completely out of place. Here's another little piece of advice: never, ever, ever combine sequin with sparkling jewelery, be it necklaces, bracelets, or long earrings. I don't care what colour it is or of it is a blouse or a gown. Sequin should beam in its own right. But that's what makes it so demanding. You need to know how to wear it. Otherwise, you look like an awkward walking disco ball. Solid-colour accessories are actually fine, as long as they do not outshine the dress.

Which is a rule that even royal women hardly ever follow. Sequin gowns and tiaras do not make a good combination. But this gala is a black-tie event, so there is no need for us to get our tiaras and sashes out of their boxes. I am sorry to disappoint you, but certain rules apply when it comes to this kind of jewelery. Tiaras are usually not worn in black-tie events, unless the hosts say otherwise. Instead, they come out in full force during state banquets, other white-tie events, and occasions where the royal men have to show up in uniform, such as royal weddings. Truth be told, I suppose that Hera would have liked to make her birthday a tiara and sashes occasion, but circumstances convinced her otherwise.

Tonight marks the end of a rather turbulent year for the family. Since January, we have been accused of overspending, living abroad (even though I was only doing my job...), and over-holidaying. Hera mostly. Basically, they criticized us for overindulging in our status. So, keeping it simple is the best way to go.

I guess Athena was right, though. I did dress to impress. One man in particular. The same one that pushed that little note in my hand during the photo shoot and who couldn't stop holding my hand under the table during lunch.

I still can't believe we're doing this. It feels like we're walking on fire. And I look forward to burning.

The anticipation alone is enough to make my heart beat wildly. It could make me feel aroused me, too, if I let it. But I should resist it for as long as I still can. It's only six o'clock. Our date is only eight hours away.

Gosh, look at me. All nervous, as if I've never dated before. Ares is definitely not going to be the last man. He certainly hasn't been since London. Four one-night-stands followed, each time with powerful and well-connected men. One of them, in fact, was an ex of mine I had left in New York and we just agreed to reunite for the night. I was pregnant at the time. I guess I did it to forget about it, as if I could just erase London from my past just like that...

All I did was simply fooling myself. Yet, it did make me realize something.

Ares and I fit perfectly. Key into lock.

My maid has finished with my gloves. While fixing them, I pinch myself. On purpose. I need to get the memory of me and Ares in Chelsea out of my mind. Until the gala is over, that is.

My dresser holds my black silk pashmina shawl and she brings it around my shoulders. She moves around me, to make sure that it falls nicely. I need to look nothing short of perfect tonight. For many reasons. My friendly maid stands near me, to help my dresser adjust it. Without a second thought, I touch her arm. She jumps up a little.

"I'm sorry," I tell her. "Could you have my wig, my pair of black jeans, my white sweater, and my blue coat ready for when I come back?"

"Yes, Miss. But which coat?"

"The one with the fuchsia flowers embroidered on the left side of the collar. Oh! And my black boots. The short-heeled ones."

"Of course."

"Thank you!"

My dresser can't help eavesdropping: "I smell the scent of a date lingering in the air!"

"You smell right!" I tell her.

"Where is he taking you?"

She doesn't ask who because she knows I'll never tell her. I don't like discussing such things with my staff, friendly as we might be.

"I've no idea."

It's true. I don't have the slightest clue. It might be a late-night movie as far as I know. He does look like the kind of man who'd grope you in the dark in a public place, only to make the whole experience more thrilling.

My dresser has finished securing the pashmina shawl and now stands behind me. We both look at my reflection in the mirror. She seems pleased with her work. I most certainly am.

"You are going to be the talk of the town tomorrow!" she says.

My hairstylist is nearby. He, too, can't help commenting: "The Queen will be furious that you have outshone her on her birthday!"

"That's for sure," I reply. "If she dresses like the mother of the bride again!"

I remove the shawl and take another look at my gown. It's the very definition of perfect. Almost.

Its designer had decided, despite my wishes, to add some ruffled black tulle around the neckline. He believed he was making it appropriate for royalty, yet it ruins the whole dress. But it is sewn on top of the living, so it will b easy to tear it without destroying the gown.

I don't think twice. Holding it in my hand, I begin to pull it apart. My dresser approves. She actually smiles like the Mona Liza, as if she has been counting the seconds until I would finally give in to the temptation of bringing a great dress back to its rightful glory.

The tulle falls to the floor. She then rushes up to me, makes sure that the dress sits on my body correctly. I think I just made the cleavage far more revealing than it should have been. Whoops!

And she is still smiling! "With all due respect, Your Highness, you did the right thing. If I had firm and voluptuous breasts like yours, I would flaunt them all the time!"

Boys, welcome to a woman's world. We always have such discussions. You can bet all your money that me and my styling team are just like that as well! Shame is an unknown word is here. These people have seen me naked, for heaven's sake!

Now, let's see if the trick will work.

* * *

 _Palace of Tatoi, Acharnes, East Attica_

Amphitrite stood before the Edwardian dressing table and let out a deep sigh. Despite being married to Poseidon for seventeen years and having attended numerous official banquets before, royal events still made her nervous. It was not the etiquette. She had mastered it years ago. But she couldn't stand the publicity. She would never get used to the many cameras or seeing her face on the newspapers and on TV. Even though that was her life now, it still felt like a completely different world.

Opening her jewelery case, she searched for her long earrings. She didn't want to sit down. It would ruin her dress. See, she was already being ridiculous... They would travel to the Royal Palace by car. Of course she would wrinkle it!

She loved it though. It was a strapless white lace gown. It was warm enough for the winter and comfortable enough to be worn all night long. Since it was floor-length, it also hid her short white heels. They were the most comfortable pair of shoes she owned!

Holding both earrings in one hand, she put them on. They were made of long white beryl stones, forming the shape of an A. Poseidon had given them to her as a had his reasons.

Surprisingly, they matched perfectly with the three bracelets on her right hand - two diamond ones and one made of black sapphires. On her left hand, she was simply wearing a diamond ring.

"Wow, Mum, you look like a princess!" Rhode said.

She had entered the room shortly after Poseidon had exited it - a sign that both her parents were ready. She loved seeing her mother trying on her jewelery and asking her her own opinion. It was the closest thing Rhode could get to the royal glam since she was still considered too young to attend such highly-publicized events.

Yet, she had seen the preparations. For almost four hours, the Palace had been filled with people carrying garment sacks, big suitcases, and various big boxes. She had followed everyone around like an ant. She had wanted to take everything in. Her aunt Hestia had commissioned five hairstylists and makeup artists to arrive to the Palace and Rhode had been allowed to watch as they had been preparing her mother, grandmother, aunts, and cousin Athena. Much as she loved Amphitrite's decision to wear her hair down, she thought her cousin was the best-dressed one. Light brown hair looked great on her and brought out her very pretty eyes!

When Rhode had asked Demeter if she would get ready in Denmark like that too, she had replied: "Oh, dear, no! There, I have an entire team just for me! They even help me put on my clothes and jewels!"

"So, does Aunt Hera have them too?"

"Of course she does! Every queen does!"

Rhode, however, had a very different example. Her mother always got dressed by herself. Only on formal occasions such as tonight did she have people to help her.

Amphitrite's dress was designed by a Greek fashion house and the guy had arrived on his own, leaving only after he had made sure that the Princess looked absolutely flawless. They could have designed her jewelery, too, but Amphitrite always preferred to wear the ones she already owned.

"Thank you!" Amphitrite replied, smiling at her daughter through the mirror. Almost immediately, Poseidon walked back inside the room:

"Of course she does! She is a real one, too!" Walking up to Rhode, who was sitting on her mother's bed, he pinched her cheek: "As are you, my little cherry bub!"

Then he turned to Amphitrite. He had to take a step back to take in all her beauty: "Stunning!" he said. "I will be the man escorting the most beautiful woman in the ball tonight!"

But Amphitrite knew better than that: "Don't use those tricks on me, darling. You know they never work!"

Poseidon laughed. He would have kissed her, too, but he knew she would stop him. She didn't want to ruin her makeup. Instead, he asked: "Are you ready?"

With a nod, Amphitrite held her white shawl and matching clutch. Then she turned to her daughter: "Now, as we agreed. Sleep at ten thirty, dinner is served at quarter to nine as usual. Be kind to the staff and address them as-"

"-as 'Mr.' and 'Mrs.' and say 'please' and 'thank you'," Rhode scoffed. "I know, I'm eleven!"

"You'd better also remind your brother."

"Triton knows, too," Rhode said boringly, walking out of the room. But before she left, she turned to her parents again: "Will you wish Her Majesty a happy birthday from me and ask Aphrodite what perfume she's wearing?"

"Yes and no," Poseidon replied. "You can ask her yourself the next time you see her."

"Fiiiiiiiine!"

The minute Rhode disappeared from sight, Poseidon looked into Amphitrite's eyes. He recognized her earrings.

"You have never worn any of my conciliatory gifts before."

"It's a reminder," Amphitrite replied confidently. "To keep you from going back to your old ways."

Poseidon nodded. Six months ago, she had found out about yet another of his lovers and had left for Naxos. When he had come back to find her, she had told him she had wanted a divorce. She loved him enough to let him go, if he so wished. But after two long nights of drinking and smoking, Poseidon had realized that he loved her too much to live without her. Those earrings proved it. When he had begged her to come back to him, he had revealed to her a game that he and Zeus would play. They introduced each other to different women, just to see if they could make them submit. Amphitrite had been so shocked to hear it that she had not spoken to him for days. Eventually, she had reassured him that she would stay with him on one condition: he ought to end his extramarital liaisons at once.

Holding her close, he said: "I have kept my promise so far and I will do so tonight as well. Trust me."

"I'm trying to," Amphitrite confessed. "I want to. I love you! But it's not easy."

Poseidon nodded. Then he pointed to the door: "Shall we?"

Waving her hand in front of her to keep her tears from running, Amphitrite followed him to the ground floor.

The minute they closed their bedroom door, they were back to the perfect married couple.

As had always been the case.

* * *

 _Private Quarters, Royal Palace_

The door adjoining Their Majesties' rooms was wide open. Their long conversation three days ago had helped heal a few wounds that still remained open. At long last, they had settled whatever business between them had been left unfinished.

Zeus had told her that he had figured out she had been the famous thief and had asked her to return the items as soon as possible. Hera, wishing to protect Eris from his wrath, reassured him that she would see to it first thing the next day, on the condition that he would fire Ganymede. After Zeus had reassured her that that matter had already been taken care of, Hera had simply nodded and walked away. Once she had closed the door to her bedchamber, she had burst into tears.

At long last, the war between them was over.

Yet, although they had signed a peace treaty, there was still tension between them. Everyone inside the Palace had noticed it and was whispering about it. The Queen's dresser and the King's valet could certify it. Each morning, they had wanted to be get them ready as soon as possible, so they would not prolong their stay in their bedchambers a minute longer.

However, the King and the Queen really seemed to be enjoying each other's company today. No one knew what prompted it, but they could easily guess. The Queen looked the most relaxed she had looked in years! Surely His Majesty had played a major part in it. Try as he might, he, too, couldn't hide his good mood.

"You really are glowing tonight!" Zeus also confirmed, staring at Hera as she was standing before the mirror. "It did you good!"

He hugged her from behind. They looked at their reflection. Zeus was dressed in a simple tuxedo with a black bow tie, while Hera was wearing a three-piece burgundy long gown. A lace-knitted, sleeveless top, satin skirt, and a lace jacket with satin collar, sleeve hems, and belt. Her hair was styled in a simple chignon and she was wearing no jewelery other than her diamond earrings and Queen Rhea's diamond and lace brooch - a gift of the former Queen for Hera's fortieth birthday, eleven years ago.

Kissing her neck, Zeus asked her: "Tell me something. How did you manage to get so many of our cousins to accept the invite on such short notice?"

Hera smiled slyly: "Darling, you just happened to have found out about it late!"

Zeus needed a few moments to understand what she meant. When he did, he grinned, never taking his eyes off of their reflection: "You pretty devil!"

They both laughed. She had been planning that gala since the day after she had arrived in Corfu. She had needed something to keep busy whilst managing to keep her husband's secret and rescuing the family's reputation nationwide, if not all over the world. The invites had been sent as early as September. She was familiar with the busy royal calendar, so she wanted to ensure that most of her distant cousins would find a way to fit her birthday in their agendas. Some of them had turned down the invites, as she expected they would. Christmas was a busy time for everyone. Yet, others accepted wholeheartedly. Only after she had had their consent, could she go over the details. Yet, her plan to get rid of that boy had gotten in her way and she was extremely calm now that everything was over. Almost.

Hera broke their embrace and faced Zeus. Fixing his jacket, she said: "There is one thing we still have not discussed."

"Is there?" As far as Zeus was concerned, everything was said and done between them.

Hera drew a deep breath. She would keep Ares and Aphrodite apart, whatever the cost. Their attraction to each other was abnormal. Even worse, it was sick!

"Since you first told me about Hephaestus, you have asked for my consent. Repeatedly. I kept telling you I needed to think about it. I have."

Zeus couldn't stop looking into her eyes. The engagement announcement depended on her answer. Hera took a step back.

"It's a yes," she replied confidently. "You do have my consent!"

Without a second thought, Zeus held her in his arms. His reaction was so sudden and his embrace so tight, that Hera felt like she couldn't breathe. He'd have twirled her around too, if he were a few years younger.

"At long last!" he whispered in her ear.

"I know," she replied. "Everything will be fine now!"

She still disapproved of Hephaestus, but it was a start. With the right guidance, Aphrodite would come back to her senses. Everything had to come up roses in the end.

Hera would make sure of it.

* * *

 _Entrance Hall, Palace of Tatoi_

Everyone gathered in the room, where they indulged in a last-minute gossip, while waiting for the butler to announce that their cars were ready. All the limousines that the Royal Family owned were kept at a garage a few meters away from the Palace. The width of the estate allowed their accommodation. It was a commodity that the Royal Palace lacked, despite all its overwhelming grandeur.

After Poseidon and Amphitrite climbed down the main staircase, they greeted Hades at once. He had traveled all the way from Athens for the second time on the same day. A record for someone who usually avoided such events like the plague.

Not far away, Hestia, Demeter, and Athena were complimenting each other's gowns. Athena was wearing a simple one-shoulder black-and-white long gown, her curly hair falling on her right shoulder, revealing her long diamond earrings. As always, she wore very simple makeup but still, her dark pink lipstick stood out.

Amphitrite commented that her niece looked very pretty when she wanted to. Poseidon agreed. He couldn't help thinking, however, that his oldest sister looked like the living picture of their grandmother. She was dressed in a 1920s-inspired long-sleeved light blue jazz dress that stopped at her ankles, with matching short-heeled boots and a darker blue fur coat. Her curly brown hair was styled in a French bun and she was wearing Queen Gaia's infamous long pearl necklace with its matching earrings. Rather fittingly, she was standing at a close distance from Queen Gaia's portrait, depicting her in full regalia. That was the solid proof.

All the women in the room were wearing the creations of Greek fashion houses. Except for Demeter. Her own long gown was designed by a Danish. It had short sleeves and was made of dark green tulle, which accentuated her blue eyes and gentle features. She was also wearing long white gloves and long diamond and emerald earrings and a big matching bracelet.

Then, Amphitrite noticed Rhea. She was wearing a simple beige lace and taffeta gown, matched with pearl earrings. It only made her daughter-in-law smile. At long last, she looked like the Queen she had once been!

Hades walked towards his mother. Taking a good look at him, Amphitrite realized how he and Poseidon were dressed almost identically. Black designer suits, white cotton shirts, black bow ties, and black patent leather shoes. Wasn't it for Poseidon's silver cufflinks, Hades' golden ones and their very different faces, she doubted that anyone would be able to tell them apart.

Still, it was funny. There were thousands of different choices for women's clothes, yet men's fashion severely lacked in imagination!

For almost ten minutes, they chatting gleefully, sharing their expectations for what they were looking forward to at the gala. Like all the previous times, the women couldn't help predicting what Aphrodite and Hera would be wearing.

"Aphrodite hinted that she is wearing a very famous designer," Amphitrite said.

"Perhaps a foreign one. She has always had a soft spot for those!" Hestia commented bitterly.

"This girl will never learn!" Demeter said. "She is the future queen. She needs to promote Greece as much as she can!"

"I think she has done excellent choices so far," Amphitrite claimed. "As long as she can afford it, I believe she should enjoy it. After all, this is not a state occasion!"

"It doesn't matter," Demeter replied. "We ought represent our country at all times. All facets of it. Hera is doing a marvelous job at that, always promoting Greek designers. Even not so famous ones."

Amphitrite opened her mouth to speak, but the butler's voice filled the room:

"Your cars are ready, Sirs. Madams."

Poseidon then approached Amphitrite: "Shall we?"

There were three black cars parked outside, the two 2005 Mercedes Benz's and an old Rolls-Royce. Hades and Hestia stepped into the first Mercedes, followed by Poseidon and Amphitrite in the second one. The Rolls-Royce, which was kept in the garage for over a year now, came out of oblivion for good reason. It would carry the former Queen of the Hellenes and the current Queen of Denmark.

All of the cars carried the Greek flag to the front right side of the car. It was only a white cross on a blue background and in the middle of it was a small golden crown.

Once everyone had taken their seats, they departed at once. The drive to the Royal Palace normally lasted about an hour. But tonight, thanks to the streets being closed to allow them a safer and easier access, it would take about forty minutes.

It rather felt like a road trip. And a fancy one at that!

* * *

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

My 'pretty-me-up' team are still here in full force, congratulating each other for their fine work over chocolate croissants and a glass of champagne. They were delivered straight into the Royal Suite within two minutes after my spying maid asked for them.

Don't you just love room service?

The job of my hairstylist and my dresser is done. My make-up artist, however, is holding me hostage. I'm stuck on a chair, napkins all over my neckline, wearing a long silk kimono robe to keep my dress from getting dirty, while she is adding the final touches. I have to look impeccable all through the night. Her orders.

Due to intense shredding, poor Blanche has spent the last couple of hours in the dining room and my maids' bed chamber. It wouldn't look good if I showed up with white dog hair all over me now, would it?

Frankly, no matter the amounts of couture I've worn and the glamorous events I've attended, I can't help feeling like I am some kind of a porcelain doll every single time. The real fun would be to wear a tiara, too, but, as I said, Hera had other ideas.

To keep us entertained, we are watching the arrivals at the Royal Palace live from the Greek national television. Trust them to never stay out of the fun!

Normally, jazz music is the must for my 'prep parties'. That's what we call me getting ready to go to the ball. I won't accept any other names. But, other than that, any kind of music would be more preferable than listening to the poor reporter trying to reveal as many information as he can in under thirty seconds:

"We are standing outside the Royal Palace. You can see it in right behind me. I repeat, we are not allowed into the building since the party is private, but we can see all the guests as they arrive to wish a happy birthday to Her Majesty The Queen. We have already seen some politicians arriving, including the Prime Minister and his wife, who arrived on foot. Erm... Some of his ministers also followed suit, some with their spouses and some without. Now, as for the royal guests, we know that they are arriving in an omnibus en masse. They're all staying at luxurious hotels at the city centre - some even here if I'm not mistaken. The only royals arriving by car are the members of the Greek Royal Family. I need to point out here, that the guest list includes Greek actors, singers, lawyers, businessmen, and personal friends of the King and Queen. We expect the Crown Princess to arrive at approximately seven-thirty, as we have been informed by the Palace. This year, I repeat, she is not accompanied by Prince Ares but by, as we have been informed, a good friend of hers whose name still remains unknown. I must remind our viewers that, for the past six years, Her Royal Highness has not lived at the Royal Palace but at the Palace of Tatoi, where Princesses Hestia, Amphitr-"

I grab the remote control from a nearby coffee table and press the mute button. Everyone in the room gets the message. My poor friendly maid, she now has to listen to each and every single musical preference of my stylist team! But she knows who she's working for. Jazz it is.

Now, I know you have questions. Let's start with the omnibus thing. When us royals are abroad and have to attend such gatherings, it is the most practical way of traveling. For real! This is why we are always put in luxurious hotels that are at a close proximity from one another. Athens is no exception. Some of them live here, others at the King George's right next door, and others at some other hotels some five minutes away. The omnibus then is like a big, fancy school bus, picking us up from where we're supposed to be. It's really fun, actually. Especially when we are attending a tiara event. To ordinary people, it looks out of place. There we are, in our perfectly coiffed hair and couture gowns, sashes, honours, tiaras, and other expensive jewelery in tow, looking as if we're going on a road trip. I know the feeling. No matter how many years go by, or how many times I have done it, it never stops being funny. Sometimes, ridiculous even. Wasn't it for practicality, I doubt any royal would willingly ride in those things.

Let's face it. Cars are better.

I haven't the slightest idea how the entire Greek government traveled to the Palace, but our Prime Minister and his wife came on foot. They always do. They live right next door.

I do know, though, that Hera has been awfully generous. Two hundred guests are expected to attend, including the rich and famous that Zeus Almighty has befriended over the years (and who also gladly loan him some money to live by comfortably. Don't tell him you've heard that from me, it's our best-kept secret).

Talking of, I wonder if Hephaestus' parents will be there too. I know he will be. Zeus Almighty would not miss the opportunity to present him to the public for the first time on such a joyous and highly publicized occasion. And from what I've heard about his parents, they're too tacky and high-handed to miss such an event. My future in-laws, ladies and gentlemen!

Now the camera zooms out, the reporter steps aside, and the viewers can see the Royal Palace in all its glory. There are trees blocking the view of course. All for a bit of privacy, thank you very much. But you can still see that it's lit as brightly as the Acropolis.

The Evzones, though, are still where I left them. Those are members of the Royal Guard, dressed in the traditional military uniform with the fustanella, a white kilt-like garment dating back to the eighteenth century. They're always stationed outside the gates of the Royal Palace (one person per gate). In formal occasion such as tonight, you will also find them into the Palace, stationed outside every single door.

Finally, all of our relatives from abroad have entered the Royal Palace. Suddenly, we see the anchorwoman in the studio, interviewing a 'royal expert' whom I personally have never heard of before. He is supposed to be explaining how royalty works and what happens at such events. Allow me. You drink, eat, pretend to like one another, and when the night is over, your feet are killing you and you need either to smoke, drink some more, or just fall asleep. Or all three.

Everybody in here now is listening to jazz music. My hairdresser even jams to it, holding two of his brushes and moving them as if he's playing invisible drums. Now, in the TV, we see the Royal Palace again. Hold on tight, for here come the pride and joy of this nation.

A black Mercedes Benz adorning the Greek flag with the golden crown in the middle shows up on the boulevard. You'd better start counting the cars now. I mean it. The cameras start flashing and a few other TV channels (all of them private) are also gathered there, never missing an opportunity to cash in from us as much as they can. It enters the open gate to the right of the Palace and then we see what happens outside the main entrance of the Palace (they installed a few cameras there too). Two aides are already waiting for the car to stop, then rush to open the back doors. Aunt Hestia and Uncle Hades show up, shake hands with them, and rush inside.

Two minutes later, Uncle Poseidon and Amphitrite arrive. It's the same roll. Then back to the studio for a while, where the so-called expert can blabber some more. Meanwhile, my make-up artist finishes what she has been doing for the past ten minutes and she hands me the portable square mirror she's brought with her.

Wow, I look marvelous!

"That's some awesome job you've done there, well done!" I tell her and she smiles. Then she kindly reminds me I should only drink water using a straw. Until there are no more cameras around, of course.

She hands me the lipstick and I put it in my clutch. In there I also keep my mobile phone, ID card, and a few tissues. You never know.

Now the TV shows a black 1960s Rolls-Royce. Heavens, I forgot that car still existed, let alone that it still worked! Last time I saw it, it was in the garage at Tatoi, waiting for the next big event until it hit the road again. That can only mean one thing. Grandmother Rhea and Aunt Demeter are in it. Of course Zeus Almighty would let them travel in it. All for his beloved mother and his favourite sister!

Then that car, too, enters the Palace. My dresser then turns off the TV. In case I haven't said it before, this woman is my hero. In more ways than one. She comments on the guests and what a lavish affair it is going to be. We predict what each person wears and I can't resist sharing some strictly confidential gossip, which makes everyone burst out laughing. I won't tell you what it is, it's top secret! But I know things that all these journalists would pay millions to find out. That's all I can tell you.

But, sadly, all good things come to an end. So does this prep party. It is cut short some five minutes later, when my maid informs me that my own car has arrived.

Without much ado, my team is wishing me a good night, reminding me to have fun and to come back only when I have gathered plenty of new 'juicy' information.

If only they knew...

Needless to say, my friendly maid helps me get rid of the kimono and into my black coat, fixes my hair and then two of my bodyguards escort me to my own black Mercedes Benz through the back door. They keep me from view behind big black bags. Only one of them is coming with me. He opens the door for me and the minute he takes his own seat next to the driver, we are ready to go. The streets are closed to allow us easier access and for safety. What is normally an eight-minute drive, now becomes a four-minute one. With the help of a little speeding, too, of course.

But I am not on my own in the back seat.

Hephaestus is here too.

Yes, I know. I made this happen, actually. I mean it. He is escorting me, so it goes without saying that we would be in the same car. The instructions were clear: my chauffeur would have to pick him up before it was time for me to go. It doesn't look good for the bride to arrive before or without the groom. Tradition is here for a reason.

"Good evening!" I tell him cheerfully. He stares at me, mouth agape in awe. A smile widely: "What is it?"

Hephaestus stammers: "Y-you just... Um... It's..."

"Yes?"

He clears his throat, draws a deep breath, and off he goes: "You look absolutely stunning tonight!"

"Thank you!" Propriety, however, demands we do not think too highly of ourselves: "I don't believe I quite deserve the compliment, but it's very kind of you! You do not look so bad either!"

His bow tie is bent to the right and I ask him permission to fix it.

"Here, let me help you."

I bring my fingers around his collar and put it in place. He looks very nervous. He's sweating, poor thing!

Taking my tissues out of my clutch, I hand him one. He thanks me and wipes his face with it.

"There is nothing for you to worry about. It's just a party. Think of it this way!"

"It's not that. It's-"

"The cameras?"

He nods.

"You had better get used to it," I explain. "They come with the status."

The look of horror in his eyes tells it all. I feel sorry for him, I really do. He won't survive a day in this life, or in this family. Ares was all over him at dinner, and he is just the beginning. What about the rest of the family - Eris, Poseidon, and the like? And what about the media? The public, even?

His Majesty is actually asking me to play his protector by marrying him.

Tonight, it's just the start. And an opportunity.

If I tread carefully enough, I might manage to free us both from this jail in the end.

* * *

 _Private Quarters, Royal Palace_

Little Hebe was running barefoot on the beige and blue Persian carpet. She knew her Nanny would scold her for disobeying her instructions not to go any further than the corridor, but she couldn't help being as curious as she was. A fairytale world was unfolding right outside that heavy brown door. It wouldn't kill her to get a glimpse of it!

What sort of a Princess was she anyway, if she could not see all these women in the finest gowns and the men looking like movie stars?

Ares definitely looked like one. She saw him hiding behind her half-opened bedroom door, walking towards the Grand Salon. Eris and Eileithyia followed suit.

She was so, so jealous of her sisters! They could do all these things she couldn't. Stay up late, wear makeup, dress up in those very pretty long dresses... Eris was dressed in a very bright red gown (it reminded Hebe of ketchup a little) and Eileithyia was wearing a pink dress. They looked like they had come straight out of a magazine cover, even though both her mother and her nanny were forbidding her to read those. When she asked them where they were going, they told her they were going to the small reception held at the Grand Salon.

"What's that?" she asked excitedly.

Eileithyia was the first to explain: "A reception is a small gathering where we, the hosts, get to greet our guests."

"Can I come? I will only stay to greet everyone, I promise!"

"You're too young, dear."

She had promised to her classmates that she would tell them all about the gala the next day at school. It was the last day before the Christmas holidays. She would definitely have a lot to tell them. But now, thanks to her strict Nanny, she could not.

Yet, she was stubborn. She would open that door, even if she only managed to see one dress. Her siblings had it easier when they were her age. They'd sneak into the room, hiding behind the curtains and they never got caught because they always blamed each other for coming up with the idea. It would have been easier for Hebe if she had baby sister or brother. It was a very boring life, being surrounded by adults. Even her own siblings were not afraid to scold or lecture her every time she did something "wrong".

Yet, sooner or later, she would grow up. She would get to be as pretty as Aphrodite and Eris but as elegant as her mother. She would be wearing the prettiest gowns and most sparkling jewelery, own the prettiest tiaras and have ten dogs to pet whenever she liked. She would be photographed as much as Aphrodite was, in all the different islands, wearing all those elegant dresses...

Aphrodite kept telling her that life was much easier for a Princess once she had grown up. She had more freedom. But as long as she was still little, she had to be hidden from the world.

Hebe turned the doorknob. The door opened, ever so slightly. The two Evzones standing outside the door did not even turn to look at her. She was staring at the

corridors right in front of her. Two women and their husbands passed her by. They did not look Greek, they were too pale and blond for that. They were making their way to the Grand Salon, following a footman. They, too, looked like movie stars.

"Hebe!"

She jumped up and closed the door at once. Her back on it, she faced her mother. The Queen brought her hands in front of her and gave a stern look at her youngest daughter. She never learned, this one!

"What have I told you about opening the door to the private quarters?"

Hebe stared at the floor, rubbing her right foot against the wooden floor. Shyly, she replied: "Never without your permission."

"And...?"

"Never when there are guests in the Palace."

Hera exhaled. Then she opened her arms: "Come here."

Hebe ran towards her mother and hugged her tight. She was caressing her daughter's curly hair tenderly. Once again, she repeated the same old lesson:

"We are public figures, but even we are entitled to privacy. This door is what separates the two. The Royal Palace is our house. But the private quarters are our home. You do not want people to enter your home when you have not invited them."

Hebe simply nodded. Kissing her daughter's hair, Hera then patted her on the back: "You may go to your room now."

Letting go of Hera, Hebe rushed to the corridor leading to their bedrooms. But before she disappeared from sight, she had to tell her mother one last thing:

"Happy birthday, Your Majesty!"

Hera smiled. "Thank you, sweetheart!"

Hebe giggled as she walked to her room. Hera sighed. Her youngest was such a handful! Yet, naught as she was, she was a lot easier to raise than the rest of her children combined.

At least she never went about causing trouble!


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: PART II of the gala chapter :P Told you I was fast :P Plus, I am moving out in a few days, so until I get settled in, I won't be able to get any writing done. I already have the next chapter planned out though (complete with the dialogues), so all I need is to write the rest of it.**

 **This is by far the longest chapter I've ever written - nearly 19,000 words. It's very detailed and I added some personal experiences too. I attended an official banquet like that once. It had nothing to do with royalty but Justin Trudeau was the guest of honor so I guess that still counts :P True story.**

 **Plus, Hephaestus finally has a surname! That took a while.**

 **And that song Ares is whistling is _Stripped_ by Depeche Mode - the Shiny Toy Guns cover. It does sound like the perfect song to 'dirty-dance' to :P **

**All of the Ares/Aphrodite/Hephaestus moments here have been inspired by a picture in my Greek mythology children's books. All the 12 gods were gathered together for a 'family portrait'. Zeus is sitting on his throne the centre, Hera has short brown hair and wears a golden tiara (a male peacock in tow), then Hestia, Demeter, a very blue Poseidon (literally!), Apollo, Hermes, Athena etc looking at Zeus. And then there's Aphrodite to the very side of the page on a cloud shell, rocking a Marilyn-Monroe-like pose (and wearing pretty much the same pink dress that Blake Lively wore at the 2014 MET gala) while leaning seductively towards Ares who, dressed in full armour and rocking a beard, goes for his sword while staring at Zeus and all the while, Hephaestus is right opposite them, his back turned to the readers, looking in shock at his wife openly flirting with her lover. It doesn't agree with my fancast for the story, but it's still a great picture.**

 **If you manage to survive my endless blabbering, please send a review :)**

* * *

 _Irodou Attikou Boulevard, in front of the Royal Palace_

We arrive at the Royal Palace at seven thirty on the dot. But that's just a detail.

The really important thing is that this is not my car. Well I am actually in it, but my own Mercedes has dark smoked windows on the back seat for the sake of privacy. This one does not. You know what that means.

The second it shows up at the corner, the flashes of the cameras hit us like a blinding storm. All the journalists and reporters are stationed right opposite the Palace gates and outside the back side of the National Garden, taking up the entire length of the street. It's pretty much like the Oscars. They can't stop shouting and flashing their cameras, even pushing each other forward just to see who will get the best shot.

That's why there are no spectators around. Those insatiable vultures took up all the free space.

I guess I'm lucky to be sitting behind the driver. I can see the Royal Palace outside my window. Hephaestus, however, is being severely hounded by the flashing cameras. So much in fact, that he has brought up his hands in front of his face, trying to block the light. Which, in this case, is the worst cause of action.

I turn to look at him, which only increases the intensity of the flashes. The minute I touch him, he looks at me, surprised.

"Look at me, " I advise him while pretending to be removing a piece of fluff from his jacket. It worked for Margaret, it works for me too. But for a different reason. "This way, they will be able to take pictures of me but not you!"

He simply nods in agreement and I keep looking at him, while the car makes its way to the front yard of the Palace via the second gate. As soon as we disappear from the photographers' sight, I let Hephaestus go. I can already see black spots flying before my eyes and I blink very fast, while trying hard to keep from tearing up.

As for Hephaestus, he lets out a long sigh of relief.

"Heavens!" he says, fixing his bow tie. "Is it always like that?"

"You get used to it," I tell him while holding my shawl and clutch. "The first five years are always the worst!"

The car stops in front of the main entrance. Two aides are already stationed there and they immediately open the doors for us. Hephaestus' walking stick gets out of the car before he does, which is the best way to make a good first impression. He declines the aide's help and he walks around the car to make his way to the entrance. Meanwhile, I have already stepped out of the car and I shake hands with my aide, even asking him how he's doing. A little bit of kindness never hurt anyone, did it?

I do notice the camera of the Greek national TV channel and I mouth a hello to them as well. There are a couple reporters behind that camera too, they deserve some love. For never asking questions, mostly. So, that been done, I walk inside before Hephaestus. He joins me soon enough, rather panicked. I am not mad at him; on the contrary. I can't help being of a higher social rank than him, do I?

His Majesty's Private Assistant is the first person I see once I step into the Entrance Hall. He welcome me first and Hephaestus second and I shake hands with him too. Two seconds later, the butler approaches us and I begin to unbutton my coat. Following my lead, Hephaestus does the same. We hand them to him and at once I bring the shawl around me. It falls loosely on my back, supported by my elbows.

Now, a few words about the Royal Palace. Hold on tight while you still can, because I'm going to play the tour guide a lot tonight.

Constructed between 1891 and 1897, the building combines European Edwardian architecture with Greece's ancient past. The whole interior of the Palace is made of Athenian and Corinthian marble, which is why it is so damn beige. The Grand Staircase is the first thing one sees upon entering. The entire foyer, actually, is imposing. Three smaller staircases lead to the Grand Staircase. Right between it and the smaller one in the middle, there are four Ionic columns - one on each corner, forming a rectangle. The left and right smaller stairs lead to a corridor each, which are lit up with identical Victorian crystal chandeliers and Doric columns. Needless to say, the floor, too, is made of marble and that the entire Grand Staircase, smaller steps and corridors included, are all decorated with a scarlet carpet. (I'm not calling it red because red is bright and energetic. Scarlet is deeper and, in this case, more official). At the end of the main Grand Staircase, there is a double staircase, leading to the first floor on the left and right side. On the first floor, all around the Grand Staircase, there are eight Corinthian columns. They stand parallel to the square skylight (made of stained glass and decorated with small squares inside bigger rectangles). But this last set of columns and the skylight become visible only once you have stepped on the Grand Staircase.

Right in the middle of this main Grand Staircase and the double ones on top, there's a small Edwardian table - made of mahogany and white marble - decorated with the traditional Greek fishing boat. This is what we traditionally decorated each holidays instead of the Christmas tree. The particular one, made of oak and decorated with cotton mini sails, has been in our family since as long as I can remember. It may be even older than my parents, as far as I am concerned.

I must have given you a headache. I'm terribly sorry. Back on topic.

Hephaestus is speechless. He tries to take in the sight of me, as if I am the first woman he sees in his life. Taking a very careful, long look of my gown, he stammers:

"Wow... um... You look... absolutely stunning!"

"You've already said that!" I said, smiling wide.

"I'm sorry," he says immediately.

"Oh, well. Once more wouldn't hurt!"

We make our way to the Grand Staircase and he is taking it all in, mouth agape. Perhaps he has never stepped foot into the Royal Palace before. I forgot to ask. But now it's too late to find out, I guess. There are people watching.

"Hephaestus!"

He flinches and then turns to look at me, suddenly realizing where he is and what he must do. Truth be told, he catches me by surprise when he raises his elbow for me to take hold of it. Maybe I've underestimated him. He is the perfect gentleman when he's not awkward!

Or he has watched _Titanic_ a little too many times. But then again, haven't we all?

I accept his invite and let him guide me upstairs thus. Another aide is already standing a few steps above us, bowing when he sees us and he leads us to the Grand Salon at once. He doesn't need to, I've been here plenty of times. But protocol is protocol and we had better abide to it.

I raise up my skirt slightly, so as it does not get tangled between my feet as we ascend the stairs. As you would expect, the deformity of Hephaestus' legs causes him to ascend the stairs even slower than he walks on solid ground. I take advantage of it, whispering in his ear a thing or two:

"Once we enter the Grand Salon, I will introduce you to everyone as a good friend of mine. Like at dinner, here, too, they must believe that we simply know each other. We are the last ones to arrive on purpose. It's the only way you can make an impression!"

What would have been a few seconds under normal circumstances, now becomes two minutes. But, as a wise man once said, better late than never.

Here comes the tour guide again. Located between the Dining Room and the Library, the Grand Salon is where we always host our guests during receptions - be it foreign or party leaders, fellow royals, groups of people asking for an audience, or celebrities. It is one of the most photographed and famous rooms of the Palace, and the only columns in here are two Corinthian ones, right in the middle of the room, to separate the two sections of it. Other than that, it's beige, has wooden floors, there's an enormous crystal chandelier, various portraits and mirrors on the walls, two white marble fireplaces, several Victorian chairs and sofas, Persian carpets, and a piano in the middle. Tonight especially, with a pianist. Also, to spare you the trouble, every single carpet in here is Persian. Queen Gaia had brought them with her from Spain. We can't throw them away because they're practically heirloom.

All right. The commercial break is over. Back to the interesting bits.

The Court Marshall is standing outside the heavy mahogany door of the Salon, dressed in his military uniform complete with all of his medals. Instead of a sword, however, he, too, has a walking stick. But for another reason.

The two doormen open the double doors for us and Hephaestus tries to be the first to walk inside. Gently, I push him back. The Marshall has to announce us first. Believe it or not, I am rather curious. After about a month of knowing him, I'll finally find out Hephaestus' last name!

He hits his stick on the floor three times. Once he has everyone's attention and the room is quiet, he says:

"Her Royal Highness the Crown Princess of Greece and Mr. Hephaestus Petalas!" Ouch... Ouch...

It may sound like petals, but it has nothing to do with flowers. His surname means the blacksmith that makes horseshoes. I guess I'm lucky then, that Greek women keep their maiden names after marriage. By law. Even when they're royal. Especially then.

I pinch Hephaestus softy, as an indication that now he's free to step inside.

All eyes are on us. Literally. You couldn't hear a pin drop if you tried. Either they're too mesmerized by me or they are shocked by the odd couple Hephaestus and I make. It doesn't help that the room is full of people either. Imagine, two hundred people in a room made to fit sixty. Eighty at most. It's such an impossible task that not even removing the furniture would do it. So, they tried the next best thing. The Dining Room and the anteroom of the Library are also open.

Somebody call the press corps! Hera actually allows her guests in multiple rooms at the same time! Would be an understatement to say this has never happened before.

Nevertheless, Hera is treated way too high above her status. Tonight is the solid proof. First, it is uncalled for that a Queen Consort can host such a grand party for her birthday, much as no one blinks an eye - or pretends not to for fear of her wrath. Except for the republicans. But they're annoyed even by the fact that we breathe. The only way to get them to like us would be if Thunder and Peacock hosted a divorce party. Unless this is what this party is and they use her birthday as an alibi. I don't know. Wouldn't surprise me with these two. Nothing ever does anymore. But, as I think I mentioned previously, Their Majesties are considered party animals in the royal world. That's the main reason so many people accepted their invites.

That being said, we step into the room and I immediately scan it to see who should be the first person to whom I will introduce Hephaestus. Child's play, since everyone is so eager to meet my latest 'conquest' that they can't stop staring at us. It doesn't matter that they're all impeccably dressed. Their faces of amazement deserve to be caught on camera and be printed in the history books.

At least this time, Hephaestus' black gloves don't look out of place. Worn with his suit, they're practically a fashion statement. There, now we finally have one more thing in common! On that note, I am wearing the most revealing gown out of every woman in attendance. And there are actresses and singers in attendance!

Zeus and Hera are nowhere to be found (phew), but Poseidon and Amphitrite are right here and doesn't she look gorgeous in white lace! But no, they won't do. I need to find Queen Rhea. She's the matriarch of the family. And the one that had revealed his identity in the first place.

She sits on a chair to the end of the room, by the door that leads to the Dining Room. Hephaestus, rather at a loss of what he should do, bows his head and says 'hello' to everyone he sees. I push him a little, very gently, so that he can follow me.

I believe we are going to win the award for the most dramatic moment of the year. Picture this. Grandmother is sitting on the Victorian silver and indigo armchair in her beige gown and pearl earrings. Hephaestus and I are approaching her and everyone in the room - from the footmen carrying the drinks and the canapés to the guests enjoying them - are watching our every move. Like hawks.

I let go of Hephaestus and curtsy before her: "Your Majesty!"

She's smiling! That very sweet smile of hers she keeps telling me I inherited. She must be right. She holds out her arm and I take her hand in mine: "Aphrodite, dear!"

"Grandmother, may I introduce you to my good friend, Mr. Petalas? He's a jewelery designer."

A few 'aah's' and 'ooh's' can be heard in the back. Hephaestus looks at me with wide eyes for a second, then he brings his hand on his bow tie again, trying hard to keep from sweating. Not that I'd blame him. Grandmother is a living legend, a mystery to most, if you want. There is an aura about her that makes you somewhat intimidated by her and in a good way. Her manners and features are still very gentle and she has a very soft, soothing voice. Queens don't have that kind of class, glamour, and elegance anymore. Not even Hera.

Even us, her very own grandchildren, are afraid of getting too close to her for fear of destroying her magic. She's captivating, truly. There is something about her emerald eyes...

"I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Petalas," she says, holding out her right hand for him. As if on cue, Hephaestus takes it and kisses it nervously. I beam with pride, never taking my eyes off of her. He then bows deeply, his hand on his heart and takes a step back. It clears the view for Grandmother. She is so very stunned to see all these amused faces behind us!

"Do continue your very fine celebration, if you please!" she says. "There is no need to disrupt such a lovely evening!"

Within seconds, everyone unfreezes and time resumes it's natural cause of going by. The pianist continues to play various pieces from famous Greek composers. Yet, the melody she creates is overshadowed by the conversations and laughter of the guests. Almost immediately, Hephaestus looks at me, I look at him, and we both burst out laughing.

This is going to be a long night!

* * *

Amphitrite was puzzled a lot by what she had just witnessed.

As long as she could remember ,Aphrodite had always been escorted by Ares. To say that she was surprised to see the Crown Princess escorted by a stranger was an understatement. But perhaps her sisters-in-law could solve the mystery.

Everything in the Grand Salon had returned to normal. The footmen were wandering around, carrying glasses of white and red wine, champagne, juice, and water. Every single guest had found some company, big or small, and their conversations had become so lively, as if they had all suddenly forgotten about that strange incident.

Same for Poseidon. He was entertaining the Ministers of Transport and Tourism and a couple of other businessmen. They were discussing ways to improve tourism in Greece and to increase the network of ferry boats available. It bored Amphitrite to death. Plus, she had never met these men - or their wives - before and neither did she care to know them. Other than that, it always bothered her how Poseidon never missed an an opportunity to advertise his own company and to show the world what a capable businessman he was.

Excusing herself, she walked towards Demeter. The Danish Queen was standing before the nearest fireplace, talking with the Norwegian Crown Princess. The one was speaking in Danish and the other in Norwegian, yet both women could understand each other perfectly. When Amphitrite approached them, however, she told them in English that she wished to speak to Demeter in private. The minute she noticed them, Hestia left Hades, the Prime Minister, and the Mayor of Athens behind to join in their conversation. The three women formed a circle. Speaking in Greek, they kept their voices low to keep the people nearby from overhearing. However, there was hardly any need for such precautions. Everyone was too busy enjoying themselves to care about what the two Princesses and the Queen were talking about.

Meanwhile, Aphrodite and Hephaestus were walking around the room, so that he could be introduced to the guests. Everyone seemed very keen to find out more about him and he behaved like he was star-struck. Other than that, he acted like an old-school gentleman, shaking hands with each man and kissing the back of the right hand of every woman he spoke to.

Amphitrite couldn't help thinking that his surname sounded awfully familiar, yet his appearance made her doubt that it was truly who she thought he was.

Until they approached them, however, the trio could speculate all the wanted. Aphrodite was their niece. So, it was only natural that they take a great interest in the stranger by her side.

"Well, she said he's a jewelery designer, so perhaps their relationship is professional?" Hestia wondered. "She might wish to promote his work. Give him a heads-up."

"She is not wearing any jewelery as far as I can tell, other than her earrings." Demeter pointed out. "But her hair is hiding them. No, I highly doubt this is the reason."

It was Amphitrite's turn to speak: "Well, they cannot be lovers, surely!"

Demeter scoffed: "What made you think that?"

"If they were, she wouldn't have brought him here! Especially not tonight!" Amphitrite replied.

"It is so nice to see you all gathered here!"

Looking up, the trio saw Aphrodite smiling wide at them. Each took turns in greeting her by kissing her on both cheeks, careful enough not to ruin their makeup. Her mysterious partner was with her. He was tall - as tall as Ares, in fact -, although he did not even make an effort to hide his walking stick or the deformity of his legs.

Amphitrite took a good look at his face. He didn't look older than thirty-five. His thick beard was well taken care of, but it did not hide a few awful marks below both his ears. Otherwise, he would have been really handsome rather than plain good-looking. Such a pity, for such a young man!

While Hestia and Demeter's shock was slowly wearing off, Aphrodite didn't waste a second: "May I introduce, Her Majesty The Queen of Denmark, Princess Hestia of Greece, and Princess Amphitrite of Greece. Also known as Princess Poseidon because she married my uncle. Mr. Hephaestus Petalas!"

True to form, each royal woman smiled and held out her right hand. It was an indication for a handshake, although, true to form, Hephaestus kissed them. When he was done, he took a step back. The trio stared at him for a few awkward seconds, waiting for his next move. But it was only when Aphrodite, too, turned to him that he remembered what he had forgotten to do.

He bowed his head, which made the other women smile understandingly.

"Don't you worry," Amphitrite reassured him. "I was nervous too, the first time. During my first state banquet, I threw an entire tray of hot soup all over the poor Minister of Defense!"

Aphrodite, Amphitrite, and Demeter laughed at the memory. Hestia shook her head: "He was a vocal republican. He deserved it, if you ask me!"

Hephaestus was amazed by Hestia's attitude towards the people who did not support the Monarchy. He assumed that it was only natural that the Royal Family would never be fond of the people who wanted to strip them of everything they'd ever known and held most dear. Aphrodite, too, had mentioned during their dinner at the hotel that her royal relatives were staunch conservatives. With a few exceptions, of course.

"May I ask you something, Mr. Petalas?" Amphitrite asked. He nodded. "Are you the son of the famous financier?"

"Y-yes. Of course. My parents are in New York these days, actually. On business. That's why they couldn't come."

Amphitrite nodded. She was right about his identity, much as it surprised her. Then, nervously and shy as he was, Hephaestus leaned towards Aphrodite and whispered something in her ear. Aphrodite replied back and almost immediately, Hephaestus excused himself and sought out a footman. Turning to her aunts, the Crown Princess explained:

"Private matters."

That was the code for 'bathroom'. All that stress must have taken its toll on him. Changing the subject, the trio congratulated Aphrodite on her dress:

"It looks very lovely on you!" Demeter said.

"This colour and fabric suits you perfectly!" Amphitrite added.

"If only your father sees it!" Hestia commented on the revealing neckline.

"It is comfortable, which is the most important thing," Aphrodite explained. Her eyes wandered across the room, looking for one man in particular. When she didn't find him, she asked them: "Have you seen Ares?"

"He's in the Dining Room," Demeter explained. "You know what he's like in such events, always yawning!"

Aphrodite nodded understandingly. She was so relieved! He had not seen her entering with Hephaestus, thank goodness. But now, she had began to worry what he would do when he did see them together. He wouldn't cause a scene, not with everyone around. Yet, on the other hand, the crowded restaurant couldn't stop him.

Thinking about him was the last thing she needed to do, however. She had wanted to talk to Demeter about another matter urgently since she had arrived in Greece.

Her eyes fell on her aunt: "May I speak with you, please? In private?"

* * *

She agrees, believe it or not. She doesn't normally like to discuss personal matters, even with members of her own family. Except for Aunt Hestia. But sisters are supposed to have secrets between them. Normally.

I hold her arm the same way I held Hephaestus' a while ago. There are two empty Victorian chairs to the side of the room and I am guiding us there. It is not much, but it good enough to have a private conversation in here.

Once we sit down, I jump straight to the topic: "I would like to ask you a rather personal question, and I apologize in advance."

"Ask freely."

I let out a sigh and explain: "I know that your own marriage was arranged." She flinches slightly. Of course she'd be surprised. I guess no one has asked her about it before. "And that wasn't it for grandfather urging you to marry the Danish Crown Prince, you would have ended up like Aunt Hestia."

She is listening intently: "Yes?"

I bite my bottom lip. That's how you know I'm hesitant. "I would like to know if you are happy now. In your marriage. If you knew that your husband would treat you right since the very beginning. Is that what prompted you to accept his proposal or was it Grandfather's persistence? But, most importantly, did you grow to... love... each other?"

The Queen is stunned. I was right, then. Never could she have expected to talk about such a matter. With her daughter maybe, but never with her nieces.

"I am lucky to have a loving husband," she says. It's obvious that she doesn't know why I'm asking her such things. But this is neither the time nor the place for me to tell her. "We accepted each other's different personalities and we never tried to change each other. He is not the love of my life, but he does make me happy."

She's practically saying, 'I don't like cheese, but I tolerate it because I love pizza'. In short, go figure. This is not a satisfying answer. It's not even close to the answer I'm looking for!

I lean towards her a little: "Yes, but... If I may... Would you consider him your other half?"

"Oh, dear, no!" she scoffs. "I do not believe in soul mates, those are for the empty-headed! Find someone you can work with. A marriage is a settlement. It requires sacrifices from both parties."

Great! I have one hell of a work to do still...

Suddenly, a low, deep, masculine voice is heard overhead: "I would agree!"

"Ares!" Aunt Demeter says, stretching out her right hand. "What a pleasant surprise, what were you doing in there for so long?"

"Mustering up courage for the night!" he jokes. He smells of cigars. Busted! "I must say, my dear aunt, that this colour brings out with your eyes!"

"You are such a smooth operator when you want to be!" She slaps him friendly on his cheek. She's been doing that since he was eight and he hates it all the more each single time. It doesn't matter that he still hasn't shaved. That mustache looks good on him, by the way. I don't know why I just noticed it.

"Well!" she adds. "I guess you two little doves have a lot to talk about! My own sisterhood awaits me!"

 _Oh, no. No, no, please don't leave!_

Still another person that never listens to a word of what I'm saying. It keeps happening a lot lately. Honestly, it's annoying.

She walks up to my aunts again and I am left on my own with Ares. Draper as he looks in his Dunhill suit, however, I won't give in. Still, he sits by me as if he has every right to and the smell of his cologne hits my nostrils. I know what game you're playing, Mister. I will not give in!

He takes a good look at my face. Then slowly, teasingly, his eyes fall on my plunging neckline. He keeps staring at my cleavage, a sly smile on his face. I want to slap him, but we're in public. So, I try the next best thing. I bring my shawl around me, blocking his view. I don't want him to go around smiling like the fool he is. Not until each guest has had a glass of champagne. At least.

"No need to hide them! You know how much I admire real works of art!"

Great. Just what I needed. Him flirting out in the open now...

But I am no better, am I? If I had the slightest sense of dignity, I'd have up and left at once. He sees my remaining in my place as an acceptance. As if I am enjoying this game. Maybe I am.

If only we were someplace else! Anywhere!

With a chuckle, he stands up and begins to whistle. I recognize the song, even though I haven't heard it in months. It's _Stripped_ by Depeche Mode.

That devil!

We had danced to a cover of that song that fateful night in Chelsea. It was the song that had started everything. A man and a woman were singing it. Only half an hour later, we were in that cheap hotel room, living by its every lyric.

It's not a famous song in Greece. This kind of music is rather frowned upon actually. Ares knows he can get away with it easily, most people in here will be thinking it's an improvised tune.

 _Concentrate!_

I should be reminded of anything that had to do with that night now. There are people everywhere, my entire close family is here in full force, and Hephaestus is back in the Grand Salon. He approaches me, like Blanche every single time she was afraid she had lost me, and sits by me. Ares, too, has spotted him in the crowd. He's staring at us both.

He stops at nothing, does he?

Luckily for me, the Court Marshall comes to my rescue. I can't see him, but everyone stops talking again the second he starts to hit his stick to the floor.

One, two, three times. Then he says: "Their Majesties, The King and Queen of the Hellenes!"

Everyone stands up or, at least, stops what they're doing to welcome them. Uncle Hades and Aunt Hestia also help Grandmother Rhea stand up.

Ladies and gentlemen, the party has just begun...

* * *

 _A while later..._

 _Grand Staircase, Royal Palace_

While the guests were upstairs enjoying a drink and being introduced to one another, the chefs in the kitchens were preparing the food. The waiters and footmen were making sure that all bottles were open, all glasses were perfectly clean, and that the perfect straight line the cutlery followed was exactly impeccable. But it was not just the china silvers and the nineteenth-century silver cutlery they had to worry about. Their clothes, too, had to be immaculate. Not a single hair or thread out of place. They might sweat or feel cold, but they had to wear their full uniform all through the night. White cotton gloves included. If they were nervous, they had to do everything in their power to stop it. They couldn't afford broken any trembling hands or smatterings. Meanwhile, the Athens Symphonic Orchestra was having a last-minute rehearsal of all the waltzes that Her Majesty had requested. Even though they were not directly employed by the Palace, they, too, knew they had to be professionals. It was all a performance everyone in the room had been preparing for that night for almost the past two months. The Queen would not like it if anything went wrong.

However, outside the closed heavy doors of the kitchens and the double mahogany ones of the Diplomats and Reception Hall (an area referred to simply as 'the ballroom'), was a whole different world.

The four reporters from the Greek News Agency were turning on their cameras. They had set them in front of the Grand Staircase, right behind the main entrance to to the Royal Palace. Their professional video camera was secured on the tripod. One of the journalists was behind it, to make sure that it was working perfectly. The other three were standing on either side of the camera, holding their own equipment and ready to start taking pictures. Unlike the servants, they were relaxed, even joking each other for the great opportunity they had. They were the only ones allowed access inside the Royal Palace for such a great occasion and the special ID cards around their necks proved so. They were provided to them by the press secretaries of the Royal Family. It was the only way they could get in.

Their job was simple. They had to take videos and pictures of all the guests as they walked down the Grand Staircase to go from the Grand Salon that was on the first floor to the ballroom. They also had to capture every single detail of the women's couture and floor-length gowns. Early the very next morning, their footage would have to be sent to all the news agencies all over the world, especially to those of the countries whose royalty was in attendance. They could use it in any way they wished.

It was almost eight thirty when the guests began to show up. The King and the Queen were the ready to appear. Right behind them, were the Crown Princess escorted by an unknown man; Princess Eris and Prince Ares; Princess Athena and Princess Eileithyia; Princess Hestia with Prince Hades; Prince Poseidon and Princess Amphitrite; and then Queen Rhea with her daughter, the Queen of Denmark. Then come the foreign royals: the King and Queen of Spain; the Duke and Duchess of Wessex; the King and Queen of Belgium; and the Crown Princely couples of Norway and the Netherlands. Everybody else that followed was not so important. Just the politicians, celebrities, and businessmen. The three royal photographers were already inside the Reception Hall, lurking at the edge of the walls and in dark corners, trying to be as discreet as possible, so as not to interrupt the entertainment of the guests. The doors would be closed, to minimize the disturbance.

The whole process lasted about ten minutes. The whole time, the cameras never stopped flashing. The guests mostly avoided them, not wishing to let them disrupt their good mood. Like any other time, the reporters let out a huge sigh of relief once the doors to the ballroom closed. It signified that their job was done. True to the agreement with the press secretaries, they began to disassemble and secure their equipment. The video footage did not even need to be cut - it would be sent to their colleagues abroad the same evening. Only the pictures would take a while longer to be sent abroad. But it was yet another social event.

Even though it involved royalty, nothing would happen that the world would desperately need to find out about.

* * *

As you may have guessed, about an hour or two have gone by between Thunder and Peacock's arrival and us all entering the ballroom.

If you happen to look at the video footage in a couple of days, you will see us all avoiding looking straight at the camera. Some of the guests are camera shy, but this is not the reason. It's all that damn flashing and the strong white lights. A person can only stand be photographed for so long in a day...

I hope you missed my ad breaks, because here comes another one.

The mahogany double doors of the ballroom are opened wide, thanks to the two staffers hiding behind them. Before the grand hall, two evzones are standing at attention while we're passing them by. First, we step into a small anteroom. It is decorated with Ionic columns attached to the wall, Queen Gaia's red Persian carpets, matching velvet red chairs, a few vitrines displaying various century-old items like plates, miniature portraits, or even guns. The walls are adorned with original paintings from various Greek artists, depicting either the landscape of Greece (the sea is a favourite theme) or aspects of Greek daily life, past or present. Some drawings in here date back to the eighteenth century, actually. To spare us a lot of time, all of the drawings in the Royal Palace are chosen according to the same criteria: drawn by Greeks and depicting Greece. To the windows, the beige and red stripped top curtains are closed, hiding the white ones underneath them, to keep away prying eyes. Never, ever, ever trust professional photographers. Especially on nights like this.

We descend a small oak staircase. That, too, is covered with a scarlet carpet.

Et voilà, we enter the ballroom! Maybe I've told you this before, but it is separated in two sections. The first one is called 'The Diplomats' Hall' and it is where His Majesty (or me, when acting as regent) inaugurate the new government, appoint ambassadors, receive choirs, and basically play the grand and powerful. It's also where we keep our Christmas tree. We normally take our family portraits there, but thanks to Peacock instructing that it is kept lock at all times during the gala preparations, we had to travel all the way to Tatoi for it. Oh well. The walls in here are beige (the entire Palace is, in case you haven't noticed...) but the whole room is decorated with various large mirrors and paintings, plus another marble fireplace in the middle. So, I suppose they make up for the lack of imagination when it comes to the wall colours. Plus, the huge green and white stripped top curtains in all the windows in here are also closed, which improves the decoration dramatically. The floor is wooden but I have no idea what kind of tree had to be sacrificed for its making... I didn't do that in 'Learning About Your House 101'. Don't laugh, that was actually a lesson I had to do when I was little. Part of learning about my family history. I hated it. I still do. But I can't let all that knowledge go to waste, can I?

By the way, my favourite part about the ballroom is the way it is lit. The old candlesticks on the walls have been turned into electric lamps and there's secret lighting installed in every corner of the ceiling. Even around the crystal chandelier at the very centre of the ceiling at the Diplomats' Hall. That chandelier is enormous, extremely majestic, and so dramatic that it gives Hera a run for her money. It is as old as the Royal Palace and the pride and joy of the House of Olympios. I guess because we could never be able to afford it if we tried. It's worth its weight in gold. The Greek Royal Family never had that kind of money, much as we're trying to convince you otherwise. This year alone, we had to spend almost forty thousand euros just on cleaning it up.

These days, it is mostly used as a decoration. We don't light it up, because we need to protect it at all costs.

OK, break over.

Perhaps I have been in this room too many times. It just doesn't impress me anymore. But judging by Hephaestus' stunned expression and by the amount of guests left speechless and just looking around them, trying to take it all in, I suppose it is grand. And they ain't seen nothing yet!

At the end of the room, there's a curtain. A big one. Normally, it is kept closed and there is a small Edwardian salon in front of it (white sofa, four chairs, and a coffee table). But, because we need to use the Reception Hall right behind them, the salon has been removed and the curtain has been drawn, revealing two white oak double doors. One is to the left of the room and the other to the right. Both are opened wide. The Reception Hall is higher than the Diplomat's Hall, so to make up for the height difference, a small staircase has been installed in front of every door. As you can guess, there, too, you have a small red carpet. We actually purchased that one later, hence the difference in colour.

The Reception Hall is as big as the Diplomat's one. Let me just say, that each Hall takes two days to be heated - four in total for the entire ballroom. The Private Quarters were built right above the Reception Hall. Now you know how enormous it is.

I have a surprise for you. More crystal chandeliers and Grecian columns! Better put, there are three identical long Swarovski crystal chandeliers, all lit up. These ones are significantly smaller than the one in the Diplomat's Hall, so that explains it. As for the columns, you can find all three styles (Ionic, Doric, and Corinthian), each for a different part of the room. I cannot go into greater details and neither do I want to, because we will never finish if I do. Better put, there are three identical long Swarovski crystal chandeliers, all lit up. These ones are significantly smaller than the one in the Diplomat's Hall, so that explains it. As for the columns, you can find all three styles (Ionic, Doric, and Corinthian), each for a different part of the room. I cannot go into greater details and neither do I want to, because we will never finish if I do.

Anyway, so here we are, at the Reception Hall. Also known as the room into which I charmed the French First Lady back in 1982. It was during a state banquet and I escaped my Nanny's attention, sneaked into the room, and showed up in my pajamas, pacifier in mouth, looking for Crown Prince Zeus Almighty. I liked him a lot back then. Long story short, she was so happy to see me that she sat me on her lap and tried to play with me. We went along great, until she began to sing French lullabies and I couldn't help falling asleep in her arms. My tiredness and boredom helped seal a very important diplomatic agreement, apparently, which has turned me into a pawn since. Basically, I've been doing my duty to King and Country since I was two. Literally.

Tonight's gala is not any different, thinking about it.

Time now for yet another boring description.

Between the two doors, there is another red Persian carpet. The Athens Symphonic Orchestra is stationed on there. Twenty-five people (twenty-six including the conductor) out of the total fifty are here tonight. There was not enough room for all of them, considering they also brought their instruments along. But good for them, there is hardly any need for microphones. The acoustics in here are excellent!

To their back, there's a drawing showing a lighthouse and the Aegean during a storm. I don't know what is it doing in there. I hope it does not implicate anything. Plus, right above their heads, there is a small white balcony. Normally, this is where they should have been stationed. But it's too small that it can only fit chamber orchestras. With their instruments, of course.

Anyway. The musicians are already playing their music when we enter the room. Each single one of our two hundred guests is holding a seating chart. That is basically a map, showing the position of the many tables in the room and indicating our very own seat with a big red dot. The arrangement is rather simple, frankly. The tables take up three sides of the room. There are three rectangle ones, each seating twenty people. They're considered relatively small by royal standards, actually. Anyway, the only table placed horizontally is the one where the Greek royal family and some of their royal guests will be sitting. The other two rectangle tables are placed vertically right next to our table and they are reserved for the rest of our cousins and some government officials. The remaining tables are round ones, each accommodating ten people. The empty space between them is where all the dancing will be taking place. It's also very convenient for the serving of the food. Lots of space for the footmen to move around freely.

So, the King and the Queen will be sitting right next to each other, and by the middle of the table, so that they can be seen by everyone. Because this is not a state banquet but a private celebration, I will not be sitting next to Zeus Almighty, but a few seats away. His mother takes my place, and Hestia sits right next to Peacock. Then, hold on, because things get complicated.

In such events, there is one simple rule of thumb. Each person sits right across their escort. To delve in more detail, once you have found your table, there is a little card behind every plate with your name and title - if you have one - written on it by hand. We actually hire people who have a readable calligraphic handwriting just to do this job. Each single name card is decorated with our Coat of Arms, just in case you happen to forget who you're having dinner with.

So, for our table, we have the following: Next to Zeus Almighty sits Queen Rhea and next to her is me. Hephaestus is sitting right opposite me, his back turned to the rest of the guests. Next to him, is Amphitrite, so Poseidon sits right next to me. Ares sits next to our aunt-in-law and Eris next to Zeus Almighty's brother. Athena sits next to Hera, opposite her is Eileithyia, and Aunt Demeter is right next to Athena and opposite the Mayor of Athens. I know, I know. It's breaking the chain. But both of them arrived spouse-less. We're helping spice things up a bit.

But there is one downside. I'm at Ares' mercy. He can look at me all he wants tonight. Rather, that area that he described as 'work of art'. If eating with my shawl around me wasn't damn impractical, I would've done it. Nevertheless, I do not regret tearing off the tulle. It ruined the whole gown.

Hold on a minute... I know he is not accompanying me tonight because of Hephaestus but, nonetheless, shouldn't he be seating next to either of us? Maybe there has been a mistake in the seating plan, unless... No, that's impossible. I tried to keep it a secret as much as I could. Even from the spies in my own room. There is no way Zeus and Hera might be suspecting something.

I guess I'll just leave it be, then, and enjoy the relative peace and quiet secured by the distance between us. This way, I will avoid another literary analysis. I hope.

Within ten minutes, everyone has taken their seats, the doors have closed, and the orchestra starts to play all the songs from the album _Gioconda's Smile_ by Manos Hadjidakis. It's the closest thing we have to European classical music. There is a small booklet by each our plates with all the songs that will be played during dinner. As for the dancing, no one really cares about that. They know it will be one waltz after another. Hera always goes for her favourite genre when she is to be the centre of attention. My own birthday celebrations are better. Last year, the orchestra (not this one) had played various fox-trot, swing, and even some pop songs with a symphonic twist. That was one hell of a party!

But Peacock can't get off her high horse easily. The world will fall apart if she does.

So, waltzes it is.

Back to the tables. They're all immaculately decorated. There are three candlesticks on each (two on the edges and one in the middle) and the five white candles inside them are all lit. But, to avoid fires, they are kept at a safe distance from the bouquets between them. You know Hera has done the flower arrangements because it's the same combination she picks every year: lavender azaleas, lilies, and petunias.

Now, let me give you a small lesson on cutlery arrangement. It will keep us both entertained until our first dish is served. In short: the dishes are made of china, the cutlery are silver and date back to my great-great-grandparents' reign, and there are two glasses for each person, made of crystal. The bigger glass is for water and the smaller one for the wine. As for the plates, there are three of them, one on top of the other. The small white one is for the appetizer. Underneath is a bigger white and gold plate. That, too, lies on top of the white and silver biggest one. All of them are flat. On top of the small one, there is a cloth napkin, also decorated with our Coat of Arms. Next to them are three sets of cutlery. Dinner tonight consists of four different courses, so there is one set for each. One last detail: opposite the glasses, above the forks, there is a small silver plate with two small bread buns.

Even the forks and the knives have different shapes. The bigger ones are for the meat. On top of the dishes, in front of the name card and next to the glasses, are a small fork and a spoon that is slightly bigger than a tea one. Those are for the dessert. Oh, no, don't you worry, you do not have to be an expert in telling them apart in order to eat. Just follow one simple rule: start from the outside and work your way in. The footmen will take care of the rest.

Besides, they will pick them up to bring in the food.

This actually happens the minute the waiters enter the ball room for the first time. For two minutes, they collect all the plates and fill our glasses with water and red or white wine - whichever you prefer. The wine is actually the one produced at Tatoi. 'Honour your home', as a Greek saying goes. Well, that's the way to do it!

In the meantime, every woman who wears gloves removes them. So do I, only to hear Ares whistle the tune of _Stripped_ again. Shoving him an angry stare, I put one glove on top of the other, roll them up, and put them in my clutch. Then I unfold the napkin and place it on my lap. Hephaestus follows my lead. All the while, Ares hasn't stopped whistling.

Can't he just be patient for a few hours?

The footmen march behind two smaller doors to the side, only to come back five minutes later. They bring the food with them. We're eating Greek traditional dishes with a touch of gourmet in them. The menu lies under the card with the music. Both of them are written in both Greek and English on either side. Here's an exclusive peak.

Appetizer: _Mini Greek Salad Wrapped Pita Bread_. It's basically what it sounds like. The salad is a mixture of cucumber, tomato, black olives, green pepper, feta cheese, oregano, and olive oil. Normally, it would also contain onions but due to propriety, off they go.

First main dish: _Zucchini Flowers Filled with Feta Cheese & Sun-Dried Tomatoes from Santorini, Served with Cretan Yoghurt_. Those are great, actually. They taste like heaven. Even though it's more of a summer recipe, I won't ask how come we are serving it in the middle of December. But as long as it's edible, the rest are details.

Second main dish: _Mini Meat Pie from Kefalonia._ That means that it has been baked according to the recipe from that island. That's in the Ionian Sea, in case you were wondering. And finally we come to...

Dessert: _Portokalopita._ Its name literally means 'orange pie', but in fact yoghurt cake with orange syrup. Oddly enough, it smells of cinnamon. We have been to Europe enough times to know that this spice is associated with Christmas to the North, so it is the perfect way for Hera to please her guests. I would have expected Greek Christmas sweets to be served, frankly, but those are finger food and they are baked either in honey or in baking sugar, so it wouldn't do. We would stain our gowns.

And the meal ends with fruits and coffee.

The reason I'm giving such a detailed description of everything now is so that I can avoid Ares' persistent stare.

Now, for the next hour, it is the same old roll. The footmen rush into the room, serve the meals and refill our glasses. Five minutes later, they leave, we eat, talk, drink and be mercy. Then they come back, gather all the dishes, disappear again, only to return a couple of minutes later, bringing the next dish with them.

Hephaestus is doing fine, by the way. He got the hang of it. All thanks to Amphitrite. She makes the perfect company for him, always answering each and every single one of his questions.

Ares, however, is more of a handful. He is talking with the people next to him. But don't be fooled! He might seem like he only cares about the conversation, yet it's only a camouflage. He cannot stop throwing glares at me from time to time, smiling teasingly every time he does so. He even winks when he thinks no one is watching!

I can't resist him. As much as I want to hide it, I actually enjoy his game. I sometimes return the favour throughout dinner, which only makes him want to keep it up.

Why am I just hiding from myself? I am looking forward to our date in a few hours, don't I? Plus, I did make up my mind that I will take him on as my lover. I suppose I don't want the secret to become known, especially here, while everyone's watching. The three royal photographers included. They are already in the room, taking pictures. You can't help noticing them, because of their cameras flashing every few seconds. I can't compete with that. They can catch us all red-handed, even if we tried to act all innocent.

It wouldn't do for our story to end before it was even started, will it?

I fall back to reality by the sound of applause. Zeus Almighty is standing up and walking to the podium behind our table. That's weird... I hadn't noticed that one when I entered...

While he takes his place, I gulp down some water. My throat feels dry all of a sudden. Then, while still remaining seated, I turn to the side to take a good look at him. The ovation continues and I join in halfheartedly. Then it stops abruptly.

Speech time.

* * *

Standing behind the podium, Zeus took out his flashcards from the inside pockets of his jacket. Since his childhood, he had been trained in public speaking according to the British system and with an instructor who had trained various politicians in the field. He didn't have to write down the entire speech. Just reading a few keywords and some other notes would do it. It was a quality most of his fellow monarchs praised him for.

He knew that the microphone was open. Without wasting a minute, he began to speak. He would make the speech in English, so that their foreign cousins could understand it. He had a very good RP accept in English but the way he pronounced the vowels (not in the nasal way like the British but from breathing from the mouth), gave away the fact that his mother tongue was Greek.

"You know you are important when you invite two hundred people for a fancy dinner and they all show up!" The audience laughed. It was a nice start. Zeus furthered: "First, I would like to thank all of you for coming to celebrate this very joyous occasion of my wife's birthday. Now you may think, why am I the one making the speech while she is the reason you are all here. Well; propriety!" Another wave of laughter from the guests. "I will keep it short, I promise.

"To begin with, I owe the Queen a big apology. For many different reasons. This past year has had its ups and downs for us, as it does for every couple. We have been together for more than twenty years now, and it is sometimes very hard to say it out loud. It is even harder to admit to yourself that we have both grown up. Changed. We are no longer young, but we are not yet old. We carry with us the wisdom that we gathered through the mistakes of our youth, whilst we still have an awful lot to learn. About life. Love. Family values. It is a period of readjustment. The children have all grown up and lead their own lives. As parents, it is our duty to let them learn from the mistakes, yet bring them out of harm's way when we believe that is where they are heading towards. It is a tale as old as time.

"Perhaps it is a fault of our society to declare that, once we are adults, we ought to take full responsibility of our actions. We are panicked at the prospect. We have no idea how to do it. Throughout our lives, we have lived under the protective veil of our parents, the very same one we rebelled against as adolescents. But once we are out of this domain of safety, we cannot go back inside. Otherwise, it is perceived as a failure. It is only human, however, that we ask to return to that age of innocence. We are looking for a pillar of strength, someone that will support us through thick and thin. A person who, at the end of the day, will take your hand and reassure you that everything is alright. Someone you can trust with the secrets you kept most buried and know that they will never reveal them.

"For all those reasons, I consider myself lucky to have found my other half in you," he turned to Hera. Her back was facing him, but she turned so that he could see her smile. It earned a few 'aw's' from some guests, but soon enough, Zeus furthered, still addressing Hera directly:

"I might not be saying that often, but I consider myself lucky that you have become my wife. I look into the eyes of our children, those wonderful little people that would run down the halls of the Royal Palace and I hardly recognize them. They have become adults with minds of their own. Before I even know it, those little adult children will have babies of their own and then they will realize what we've had to put up with all these years! [audience laughs]. I thank you for helping me raise them under the constant pressure of the spotlight. In fact, you deserve more credit than I could possibly give you. Throughout our marriage, you have always said to me, 'Darling, you take care of the country. Leave the rest to me.'

"Everyone who has ever been in a relationship knows that it takes something vital to make it work. Balance. Cooperation. It is a great cliché, but it is true. I believe in our case, for people who live their lives in the spotlight, with the fear of public scrutiny so constant every day, it is primary that our better half had better be someone discreet. Someone who knows how to keep quiet when the world get too loud. A person that, at the end of the day, will pat us on the shoulder, give us a glass of coffee or wine, or something stronger!" A few snickers come from the audience. "And tell us 'Good job, love'. That someone might not be perfect. In fact, they might seem like they are lacking something, which we believe we are looking for."

His eyes traveled to where Aphrodite was sitting. She was looking down, exhaling deeply. Thus Zeus knew that she had gotten the reference to her and Hephaestus. Good for her, she was smart enough. Since he was done with one couple, it was about time he made amends with his own marriage. What better way to do so than to hit Hera's most sensitive spot: her vanity.

"But our significant other may carry something else in them, a quality we were too blind to see the first time. I couldn't possibly speak for everyone, but I know what applies in my case. For the past twenty-three years, I have seen Her Majesty evolve from a young girl who knew very little about hosting state banquets and conversing with heads of state and government to a woman who has become an expert in all these fields. I consider myself lucky to have seen her grow in self-confidence, experience and, yes, beauty.

"Your Majesty, you have been my most important partner in crime, never being set back by the negative comments about you or our family because, my, can people get judgmental! It is what has made our marriage work. Without you, I would not be the man I am today. You have done a splendid job, not only managing the many palaces and running each household, but also raising the children and being the greatest ambassador to Greece one could ever wish for. You embody all the qualities one looks for in a Greek woman and mother. Someone who manages to raise children and maintain her career brilliantly. A versatile person if you want, whose each role becomes part of her personality and identity. Since the day I met you, I have not ceased to be impressed by your courage, strength, cleverness, stubbornness, and, may I say, your persistence. And every single day when I wake up, I consider myself lucky to have you by my side. My strength and stay through thick and thin."

Hera was turned to the side, yet he could still see her smile. His mission was accomplished. All that was left was to finish his speech:

"Ladies and gentlemen, may you please raise your glasses!" He paused, waiting for everyone to stand up and do as he asked them. As soon as everyone was up, he added: "And assist me in wishing a very happy birthday to my wife. Your Majesty. Hera. Poppy doll!" Once again, everyone laughed. He was surprised that he could still remember the nickname he had given her when they had been dating. Back to a time when their lives had been completely different. However, he did not let his melancholy show. He had to finish on a happier note:

"May you bless our lives with your shining presence for many years to come. To the Queen!"

The voices of all the guests echoed like a choir:

"To the Queen!"

* * *

Trust Zeus Almighty to throw bombs and enchant the audience at the same time.

This whole thing about looking for a partner that is discreet and who never steals the spotlight from was practically his way of telling me I should stop closing the door on Hephaestus' face anymore.

Little does he know...

His Majesty is walking to his seat. Before he sits down, he leans down and Hera kisses his cheek. That's more than enough PDA for them. Pecks are strictly forbidden. French kisses are out of the question; no royal does these in public, unless they want to end up all over the tabloids.

All for the sake of being proper and not breaking the protocol!

The orchestra now continues to play a wide array of songs from various Greek composers, living or dead. The European waltzes will start as soon as dinner is over. The footmen are back to the Reception Hall, carrying the trays with the dessert.

The portokalopita is actually one of my favourite delicacies and, were the circumstances any different, I'd have eaten it at once. It's also a great way for me to avoid talking with Uncle Poseidon about which Greek island is better. Personally, I prefer Cythera, but he keeps voting for either Santorini or Naxos. Mykonos has too many celebrities, homosexuals, and nudists for his taste.

Damn, there I'm doing it again!

Ares keeps looking at me as if he is already imagining me naked. I guess I know how tonight will end, then.

Some forty minutes later, we are all done. Finally. Now it is time for the dancing to begin.

That's what happens at every single royal ball. First we eat, we listen to speeches between meals, then we're done, and we hit the dance floor. Good for us all, tonight is not a tiara event, which means that we can dance without having to worry about terrible headaches the next day. It's not easy to waltz with a wide array of precious stones on your head! It is possible, and I have done it plenty of times since I turned eighteen and wore my first tiara, but it's not easy. Aspirins hardly help as well.

Before I even know it, the tables have been cleared from all the dishes and cutlery (only the glasses are left), the women wear their long gloves again, and the orchestra begins to play the waltzes.

This genre does add a romantic flair to the whole evening, wouldn't you agree?

Sticking to tradition, Zeus and Hera are the first ones to dance. Soon after, the rest of the guests follow. Aunt Demeter, for instance, dances with Uncle Hades (a sight I thought I'd never see. She's tiny and he's a giant). Athena, too, has finally found herself a man, even if he's the Mayor of Athens, old enough to be her father, and looks like he has two left feet. And then, there's some other people that just can't let go of their insignificant other. I'm referring to Uncle Poseidon and Amphitrite. They make a nice couple, although they have the same height difference as Aunt Demeter and Uncle Hades.

The other couples don't interest me that much. Our royal cousins dance with their escorts and I don't know half the other guests. I must have seen them at other events or movie premieres, but don't take my word for it. And don't be fooled by the journalists. They distort the truth. None of these people are my friends.

Suddenly, Hephaestus interrupts me from taking in the great view. He clears his throat to draw my attention. As soon as I look at him, he says:

"I know that it would be rather improper not to dance with me, but I am afraid I cannot do it."

Due to his deformity. I know. I wouldn't have demanded of him to do something he can't either way.

"It's all right," I nod, taking his hand. "You don't have to worry about it."

I turn to the dancing couples again, but soon enough I remember that he might not wish to stay on the same seat.

"Would you like me to sit by me? It would help you see the dancing better!"

"I'm fine," he says. "I can stay here."

Maybe I'm slowly warming up to Hephaestus. I think I would like him as my friend. But still, Zeus Almighty is making a grave mistake by getting us two married.

He is not the most suitable husband for me. Once we he has become a Prince, Hephaestus will have no other choice but to step into the public eye. Yet, how can he do so when he is as scared of big crowds as he is?

"You may get up if you wish," he says, as if reading my mind. "I wouldn't like to ruin the night for you."

"Are you sure?" I mean it. I wouldn't want to leave him on his own in there. Without my shield, he won't be able to defend himself.

"I am, yes. Go and enjoy yourself."

To thank him, I touch his hand only slightly. Then, taking my glass with me, I stand up. Well, at least if Zeus Almighty asks me what I'm doing, I'll tell him I have my fiancé's permission.

If he wants me to be a pawn to his game, I'll give him a taste of what he's paid for!

* * *

All that time, Eris had remained on her seat, waiting eagerly for her time to shine.

She had witnessed Hephaestus and Aphrodite's discussion and how tenderly she had held his hand. There was no doubt about it now. That weirdo that ate with his gloves was the infamous man that Aphrodite would marry. Why else would their father let him escort the Crown Princess to such a highly publicized event?

The minute she saw Aphrodite stand up and walk towards the dance floor, she took the chance.

Without a second thought, she sat next to Hephaestus. He noticed her immediately and greeted her gently, but he couldn't stop staring at his glass of red wine.

He was such a hopeless man, it made Eris sick. How could someone like him, who needed a walking stick to stand for heaven's sake and who was stuck on the same chair for hours on end want with the Crown Princess? As for her father, couldn't he see that the poor man had hardly spoken a word all evening, except to Amphitrite? He simply wasn't a good addition to the family. He didn't... fit.

But he looked naive enough. Perfect!

"So! You must be the famous fiancé I've heard so much about!"

Hephaestus flinched, not quite expecting the attention. Or the fact that the rest of the Greek Royal Family knew who he was for that matter.

"Really?" he asked innocently.

Eris was more than pleased. If she could, she would rub her hands with joy. That man was so innocent for all the wrong reasons! He could easily be manipulated into believing the wrong thing. Just the kind of fun that Eris had been looking for.

"Yes!" she nodded. "Aphrodite and I are best friends! I know all her secrets! She keeps telling me how... besotted she is with you! How much she loves you, how deeply she cares about you...!"

Hephaestus could not believe her: "No offense, Your Highness, but... I've only met her twice so far."

 _Even better_ , she thought.

"Have you heard of a _coup de foudre_?"

Hephaestus shook his head.

"It's French for love at first sight!" Eris furthered. "It's what happened to her when she saw you!"

Hephaestus smiled awkwardly and twirled his glass around. "To tell you the truth, she did not give me that impression both times that I met her. Friendly and approachable perhaps yes, but certainly not a woman in love."

He was smarter than Eris thought. But, luckily for her, Aphrodite was a very complicated woman. Besides, Hephaestus did not look like he had much of an experience with women. Aphrodite? Approachable? Since when?

"She's always like that when she's in love, trust me!" she reassured him. "She gives the harsh treatment to every single man she's interested in, to see if they will chase after her."

Hephaestus took a very good look into Eris' eyes. Much as he wanted to believe her, something advised him against it. Eris avoided his glare by looking at the dancing couples behind her. Once she noticed that Hephaestus was following her lead, she smiled wryly.

"Although, if you want a piece of advice, I would be cautious if I were you," she let out. Then she turned to him. He looked like he was hanging from her every word. "She's like a spider, throwing her web all over the place to see which man will stick. Once that man sticks, there's no way out."

"I'm sorry, I- I don't quite get what you mean?"

Leaning towards him, Eris whispered in his ear. Surprisingly enough, he did wear cologne: "Be careful there. She has a reputation for toying with men. I think I've heard her latest conquest is a very demanding competitor. He won't share her easily. In fact, I think he's had her already. And once he has, he is not going to let her go without a fight."

Hephaestus thought that she was scolding him about the fact that he wasn't dancing. That was the only sensible explanation for her words to have a meaning.

"I'm afraid I can't dance..." he apologized.

"Oh, I've never said you should dance with her!" Her answer stunned Hephaestus. Eris explained: "Just sit back and watch which man she'll dance with the longest!" She pointed at the dance floor with her glass.

Hephaestus was looking at the dancing couples, all these men and women going around in circles, enjoying the music. To him, it felt like a different, untouchable world. And Aphrodite was part of it. She was standing quietly in a corner, eager for someone to discover her and lead her towards the picturesque, colourful, lively ballroom.

"That man is your number one competitor!" Eris added.

Hephaestus could not understand exactly what she meant, but now he could get an idea. He had let Aphrodite down by not joining her, even though he had told her kindly that he could not dance. She was a woman full of life. She needed more than what he could offer her. All of a sudden, he felt like he was years old. He was determined to change that. He could not suddenly get up and dance, for he knew he would make a spectacle of himself if he dared try. But he had been the perfect gentleman all evening. That had come as a great yet pleasant surprise to Aphrodite. She might dance with as many men as she wished. At the end of the day, Hephaestus knew that only he could offer her what she needed the most. Even if she was too blind to see it.

"Now, you may excuse me," Eris said. For a few moments, Hephaestus forgot she was still there. "I haven't greeted the Belgian King and Queen yet!"

When Eris walked away, Hephaestus felt like he could breathe freely again. If he had thought that Ares was intimidating, she was ten times worse, if not twenty. He could only imagine what the Queen was like in private... There was something odd about Aphrodite's relatives, something strangely obscure. He could never tell if they genuinely liked him or not.

But Eris and Ares were the least of his concerns.

He would have to find a way to open Aphrodite's eyes, before she allowed herself to be seduced by the handsome looks of other suitors. He might have had the King by his side, yet winning over the Crown Princess proved to be a far harder game than he had initially believed. It could not be won solely with jewelery, good manners, and literary analysis.

The King himself said so in his speech. People like them need something more from their spouse.

But what could Aphrodite possibly want?

* * *

As the President of the U.S. once told me, "You don't know boredom unless you gulp down the whole of your champagne at once." It was during a state banquet at the White House and that was his excuse for drinking three glasses of champagne in one go, one right after the other. I was surprised though, because he had been an alcoholic in his youth and he had tried very hard to overcome his issue. But I guess that choosing to run the most powerful country in the world does take its toll on you.

As is wanting to dance without a partner. Now it's officially confirmed. Father Dearest has absolutely no idea how to play matchmaker.

The orchestra has already played seven waltzes and I still haven't danced. Instead, I play the judge, figuring out which couples can dance, which ones can't, and which ones don't even try.

Guess which category Hephaestus falls into.

There are a few lonely men scattered around the empty tables while their wives - or girlfriends or even mistresses - are busier talking with one another but I'm not that desperate to ask them. Besides, it is highly improper for a woman to ask a man for a dance, even if we're living in the twenty-first century.

The orchestra changes the tune from Johann StraussII's _The Blue Danube_ (such a classic...) to _Sous Le Ciel De Paris_. One of my favourite tunes. Unable to resist the temptation, I begin to sway in my chair. Hopefully someone will notice poor little tipsy me and ask me for a dance. Heck, even Cinderella had a Fairy Godmother to listen to her wishes, even though it's almost midnight now. I think.

The song is almost over by the time a footman approaches me with a tray full of drinks. I give him my empty glass and, just as I'm about to take another, I hear a deep voice next to me:

"Would you do me the honour of giving me this dance, Miss?"

Ares. As you would expect.

He is holding out his right arm, his hand waiting for me to take it, while hiding his left one behind his back. I cannot say no to that! For old time's sake!

"With pleasure!"

There's no harm in it. We're still siblings to the rest of the world, after all.

Suddenly, the orchestra plays a tango. And not just any tune. It's _Por Una Cabeza_ by Carlos Gardel. The same one that plays in the movie _Scent of A Woman_.

He has arranged it. I'm sure of it.

He is leading me to the very centre of the dance floor and puts his left hand low on my back and takes my left hand in his right one. With a gentle push, our bodies come close to one another. His hands feel rough on my tender skin, yet they feel so very different than in London. I still remember how his sweat had gotten my gloves wet. It had been the sign I had been waiting for. The proof that he had wanted me as much as I had wanted him. A wish that got fulfilled before either of us had realized what we had been about to do. Now, it is different. He, too, feels better composed. And far more confident.

I can feel his warm breath on my skin. It smells of alcohol. I'm sure that so does mine. As I know that he can feel my heart beating. I put my trembling hand on his shoulder and let out a deep sigh. He notices it; he smiles...

We begin to sway. He whispers in my ear: "Do you know how to tango?"

I grin. I know what comes next. We look into each other's eyes. He adds:

"You just take one step closer. Then you close your eyes."

"And you let go!"

I let him be the leader. He knows what he's doing. I take a few steps back and then we swirl around. Then he prompts me to take three steps forward, only for him to swirl me again. Every time the music gets slower, he turns me around, so that my back touches his chest. True to the dance, I bring one arm around his shoulder and he he runs his fingers all over it, his other arm around my waist. When the music gets faster again, he swirls me once more, so that I face him again.

Every time I look into his eyes, I can't help feeling a tingle down my spine. He grins, like the cat that spilled the milk. I draw a deep breath and close my eyes letting him lead me however he pleases.

Then he whispers in my ear again: "Everyone is looking at us, Princess! Open your eyes!"

I do and he pushes me closer to him, so that I can look over his shoulder. I can feel his perfectly built body underneath the fabric of his white shirt. I don't know if it is our bodies touching or the shock of the speed with which it happened. Either way, it takes my breath away. He notices. Damn it.

He's right. All eyes are on us and even the previous dancing couples have stopped to admire us. The royal photographers, too, are kneeling in front of the guests and they don't stop taking pictures of us.

Among our audience, there is Hera.

That's it! Try as I might, I could not have thought of a better way to get revenge!

She wanted to snoop into my secrets. Very well then. Time for her to have the last dish of the night - the coldest one!

He holds me closer still. I can smell the alcohol on his breath and the cologne on his neck. Still, even though I am wearing high heels, he still towers over me. Were we someplace else, I'd lean my head on his shoulders, hold him tight, and dance while embracing him. But I don't have that freedom here.

Some of the guests are whispering. Let them talk. It's not as if they haven't done worse scandals than us.

Still, I feel grateful for their presence. They make me feel composed. As if that will keep me from burning eventually...

We're as close to each other as we could get. All of a sudden, my gown feels like the greatest burden again. Once more, I want the world to disappear and only for us two to remain standing, as if we're the only two people left in this world.

It would have solved a lot of my problems.

I know we cannot run out of the ballroom without raising questions. Yet I can't help feeling like I want it to be like in London. I really wish he could take me to a dark room and play with me as he wishes.

How odd, indeed. I wish for the very events to happen whose mere prospect used to frighten me a few days ago. But he's in my arms and we're at peace.

And still he begs for more.

"The perfect princess," he says as I feel his lips gently caressing my earlobe. "And to think, soon enough, I will see the truth she hides underneath all that fabric. The real her."

He wants teasing. All right then.

"Haven't you heard?" I whisper back. "This is the truth. I change with the seasons. Each single side of me is different than the next."

"Do you know all of them?"

I smirk knowingly. But truth is, I have no idea what to reply. I constantly change, as if transforming myself over and over. I doubt I will ever find out who I am.

"But isn't it precisely what keeps me curious about life? When you don't look for change, you hardly live."

"And what if I tell you, I can introduce you to a whole new world? Does that thought not scare you?"

"Why should it?"

He grins. I look into his eyes. He knows that he has full control over me now. When the night is over, and we move on to the next chapter, he is going to be my guide and I will be the blind follower. I still remain curious as to what he has in mind for our date. But I don't desire to spoil it. It will take the magic away.

"Good," he says knowingly. "My surprise won't be spoiled then."

I smile back. "Something tells me it won't."

The music suddenly ends. Everyone is applauding us. Ares and I look at each other again, exchanging a playful smile. Facing the guests, we thank them like in the theatre. He bows and I curtsy so deeply, my knee almost touches the floor.

And so, the waltz goes on...

* * *

Hera couldn't believe her eyes.

Her worst fears were confirmed. The worst had already happened. Or was about to.

They were certainly dancing like they were lovers!

She had noticed how close their bodies had been during their dance. How they had been whispering into each other's ears and how they looked at each other. Like... - oh, dear - like they had wanted to tear each other's clothes off! Had they not been aware that all three royal photographers had been capturing every single second of their dance?

But Zeus did not see anything odd in their behaviour. As a matter of fact, that was not the first time that they were dancing together in such occasions. Ares and Aphrodite were the two most famous members of the Greek Royal Family after the King and the Queen and most of their pictures at events showed them together rather than apart. That alone was enough to capture the public's imagination and to make eager for more of them.

Yet it was impossible that even the wildest imagination could predict that!

She had been stupid to think that her consent to Aphrodite and Hephaestus' marriage would solve her problems. It was just a word. It didn't have any powers. Neither could it prevent what she had just witnessed.

She had to stop Ares and Aphrodite before they lost what little sense of self-control they had left.

As if on cue, the orchestra began to play _The Wedding Waltz_ by Eleni Karaindrou. It was Hera's favourite tune, yet now it felt extremely ironic. Aphrodite's husband-to-be was standing right across the room and that shameless girl was flirting with her very own brother!

Zeus noticed that something was wrong, much as he continued to hold her securely and try to lead her to the dance. But Hera was not in the mood for it anymore. She couldn't stop staring at Ares and Aphrodite. They were still dancing, as though nothing was the matter.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, not hiding his genuine concern.

Hera answered immediately: "They're dancing."

"So? It's not the first time."

"They're dangerously close..." At once, Hera also came up with another reason, which she hoped sounded more convincing: "And he is not even escorting _her_ tonight!"

"No. But he's doing a great job standing in for Hephaestus," Zeus joked.

Yet Hera could not see what was so funny about it. Stopping their dance, she touched her husband's chest. Zeus knew what that meant.

"May I ask you something, darling?"

"Of course."

"Could you please dance with Aphrodite? You have not danced together in a long while and I believe this is the opportunity for you to tell her what you had in mind."

Not wishing to put up a fight, Zeus agreed. He escorted his wife away from the dance floor and close to the sofa, where Amphitrite and Demeter were chatting gleefully, commenting on the dancing abilities of some of the guests. Athena was dancing with the Mayor of Athens, Hestia with Hades, and Eris with the Minister of Defense, who had come without his wife.

Once Hera had sat down, Zeus turned to his sister and sister-in-law:

"Ladies, I would very much like to join your pleasant company, but the birthday girl here asked me for a few photos of me dancing with my eldest daughter as her gift!" he teased.

Demeter let out a small laugh, Hera smiled, trying to hide her concerns, and Amphitrite was the only one brave enough to play his game:

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, but men are not allowed in our company!"

"Ah!" Zeus replied. "Women's secrets, I hear! I shall leave you to it, then. Just be kind towards your husbands!"

With a theatrical bow, he turned on his heel and walked back towards the ball room. Almost immediately, a servant working as waiter for the night approached the three women, holding a tray full of glasses filled with champagne and red wine.

"Would Your Majesties and Your Royal Highness like some?"

Grabbing a glass of wine, Demeter corrected him: "It is Their Royal Majesties and Her Royal Highness when your address more than one person at once."

"Pardon me, Your Majesty."

"Ma'am, please." The waiter gave her a confused look: "It's Ma'am the second time around."

Apologizing again, he let Hera have a glass of champagne. Amphitrite was already enjoying a glass of white wine from previously. Having already noticed so, Demeter told her sister-in-law: "White is a very demanding colour for an evening filled with wine."

"I am not a fan of red wine anyway," Amphitrite replied, looking at Rhea's direction. The former Queen remained seated by her table, talking with a famous actress almost her age. She had been a famous movie star back in the 1950s and 1960s, during the golden age of the Greek cinema. Perhaps they were reminiscing about the olden days.

But her thoughts came to a sudden halt when she heard Hera's voice:

"If only Ares would realize he is not escorting Aphrodite anymore!"

Neither Demeter nor Amphitrite could understand what prompted such a reaction from Hera. But it was the chance for them to answer the question they had had all evening.

"Actually," Demeter said, placing her glass on the nearby coffee table. "We were wondering who Aphrodite's date was tonight."

"We have never seen him before, neither does he seem her type," Amphitrite furthered.

Hera thought she could share her secret. After all, she had already given Zeus her consent to the marriage and they would find out about the engagement sooner or later. Motioning for them both to lean forward, she whispered to them:

"He's her betrothed."

Both women were shocked. Aphrodite... married to a man who can barely walk? Hera noticed the worried looks Amphitrite and Demeter exchanged. She gulped down some more of her wine.

"D-Does the King know about this?" Demeter asked.

"Of course he does!" Hera replied, her voice still low. "He approves of their relationship. He believes that Hephaestus is the best husband for her. Discreet, straying away from trouble, empathetic, follows orders... Exactly what Aphrodite should be looking for in a partner."

"But what about his looks?" Amphitrite asked. "I would not wish to sound vile, although..."

"I know," Hera said, staring at Zeus as he approached Ares and Aphrodite and asked to dance with his daughter. Ares looked surprised, but he followed his father's wishes. If only it were that easy to separate them in real life as well! "This is my most primary concern."

"Yet, you did give your consent, didn't you?" Demeter wondered.

"I have," Hera said half-heartedly.

"That explains a lot, then," the Danish Queen let out.

Both Hera and Amphitrite were confused. She rushed to explain: "She was asking me about my own engagement and marriage. If I was happy, if my husband treated me right... Even if we had grown to love each other."

"Such a foolish girl," Hera said angrily, while staring at her glass. "She thinks marrying for love is heavenly. She has never learned. It leaves you crying yourself to sleep at night, wondering whether you made the right choice. Living in fear that the media will find out. Then you become a laughing stock..."

Amphitrite held Hera's hand. Looking into her eyes, she nodded understandingly. Their common experiences with infidelity had strengthened their bond over the years. In such cases, they needed someone that could understand exactly how sharp that pain was.

Demeter couldn't help agreeing: "The most successful marriages are based on lies." All three women smiled to each other understandingly. "Everyone knows that!"

"It's a fake it until you make it," Amphitrite furthered. "Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Aphrodite is a good actress, though. She will do as you wished."

Hera once again focused on the dancing couples. She had noticed how enchanted the fellow attendees were, looking at the Prince and the Crown Princess's dance. The photographer, too, had certainly taken plenty of pictures to capture every second of it. Surely someone would notice their oddly close connection. Sooner or later, Aphrodite and Hephaestus' engagement would be announced officially and then, they would all question whether or not it was an arranged match, to break off the two royals' intimate friendship.

If that was the case, of course.

* * *

The orchestra is now back at playing Johann Strauss II. This time, it's _The Emperor's Waltz_. How awfully befitting!

Zeus Almighty just steps into the ballroom as if he owns the damn place, kindly shoos Ares away and long story short, I'm stuck with him now.

I avoid his gaze as much as possible, which makes our dance look closer to a nineteenth-century waltz, when the dancing partners were perfect strangers and they sank too deep into the laws of propriety and etiquette to dance like normal people. But Father Dearest either has had a lot to drink, or he genuinely means what he says this time:

"You look beautiful tonight."

To say I was taken aback would be an understatement. Still, I do remember my manners soon enough: "Thank you."

He leads me to the middle of the dance floor and suddenly I realize that we are once more the centre of attention. The guests are still surrounding us, all curious to take a glimpse of the King and the Crown Princess dancing. It's not every day that they get to see such a lovely father/daughter sight.

Some even take out their mobile phones to take pictures, while the royal photographers just make way to step in front of the guests and take the perfect shot. It is going to make a good one for the history books, I tell you that already.

Somehow, this is the perfect opportunity to have a serious private conversation. In a low voice that is barely above a whisper, Zeus Almighty begins to speak:

"I won't ask you why you aren't dancing with Hephaestus. I know he can't dance."

Well, what can I say, the night is full of surprises. Since he took the first step, however, I can't help dancing along:

"Why do you persist so greatly that he's the one, then?" I ask. He give me a stern look. It's his warning that he's not pleased to repeat an old lecture. "Please, don't tell me the same old story."

At once, he relaxes his grip of me. Maybe he has realized I don't want to put up a fight. Neither did I intend to. Not tonight. We, too, need to call it a truce from time to time.

"I really meant what I said in the speech," he explains. I look into his eyes. He's telling the truth. "You need someone that will keep you safe from harm. Not physically, but emotionally. Someone that will be your shoulder to cry on when the going gets too tough." I look away and press my lips together. He only sees it as a sign to go on: "Being the sovereign is a very hard job, Aphrodite. You need a friend more than you need a husband."

"What about children? Doesn't the nation need an heir? At least?"

We are still dancing. For better or worse, this piece of music is ten minutes long. But Father tries to avoid the subject: "You will come to it eventually. You're still young."

There is something he hasn't told me yet. He does have something under his sleeve. It doesn't make sense otherwise. First the secret arrangement, then the first meeting, the dinner, our first public appearance together tonight... Everything is happening way too fast. Like Father is on the verge of losing all that money and he needs me to save me as soon as possible, but without my realizing it.

I don't think twice and immediately ask: "How long do I have?"

He is looks puzzled: "Until what?"

"The engagement announcement!" I explain. "I know that the government will approve. The Conservatives worship the Monarchy." I stop, waiting for his answer. He exhales, is deep in thought, yet he won't answer me. I give him a little push: "How long?"

"A couple of months," he mouths. Then he whispers again: "I cannot say for sure."

I nod: "I see."

Whatever is to happen had batter hurry up. I am going to burn either way.

* * *

Ares was both disappointed and pleased that Zeus had interrupted his and Aphrodite's dance. On the one hand, he could no longer feel the touch of her smooth skin on his hands or smell her scent of fresh roses. On the other, the sudden distance between them calmed him down. If Zeus had been late by a few minutes - seconds even -, he might have succumbed to his desires and kissed her, not giving a damn about the guests or the photographers.

Not wishing to look for another partner, he made his way to the dining tables. Eager for a drink and to continue the fun, he walked up to Hephaestus. A waiter had left a tray full of champagne glasses nearby. He took one and approached him. Those two had left their discussion in the middle the last time they met.

"Hello, Old Sport!"

Hephaestus looked up. The Prince was towering over him, with a big and proud grin on his face. But he was no longer blind. He had seen the way he had danced with Aphrodite. Their closeness was too odd for siblings yet ideal for lovers. But it was impossible. Ares was the great competitor Eris had warned him about? Aphrodite couldn't be attracted to her own brother! They had grown up together. Even the tabloids and gossip magazines couldn't have come up with such sick rumours, even if they were but hearsay. No, it was impossible. It was just a dance. Nothing else.

"Good evening, Your Highness!"

Ares dropped the smile and sat by him. "You know, since you are marrying my sister, you are going to be my brother-in-law. So, Ares would do." Hephaestus looked at him confusedly. "Not to worry," he reassured him. "I've been called worse names!"

Hephaestus nodded and looked at Aphrodite again. She was dancing with her father but there was an obvious distance between them. Were they normal people, Hephaestus would have blamed it on their strenuous relationship. Yet, in their case, it might have also been purposeful, as a sign of respect of the Crown Princess towards her father and sovereign. All those rules he still had to learn...

But Ares went on: "So, Old Sport, have you figured an answer to the question I've asked you so many days ago?"

"As a matter of fact, I think so," Hephaestus replied confidently. He had done his homework on that at least.

"Well then?"

Clearing his throat, Hephaestus laid out his evidence: "Daisy and Buchanan had a little girl, right?"

Ares nodded. "Do you think that she stayed with him because of the child?"

"No," Hephaestus replied. "In fact, I don't think that it has anything to do with the little girl. I believe she chose to stay with him because he could give her what Gatsby could not."

Ares furrowed his eyebrows, a sign that he was listening intently. It only made Hephaestus more eager to lay all of his evidence on the table: "Trust. That's the secret. She could trust Buchanan. She knew him."

"But he was cheating on her."

"Yes, but she was aware of it. Don't look far. The Queen knows that her husband also has various affairs, am I right?"

Ares sat back straight and shot Hephaestus an angry glare. At once, Hephaestus apologized for his indiscretion but, nevertheless, continued: "You might not bring it up because it is a painful subject, but you know it happens! Buchanan might have made her miserable, and he might have not made half the good spouse that Gatsby had promised her he would be, but he never hid his true self from Daisy."

"All right," Ares said, placing his glass on the white silk tablecloth. "But if you could read between the lines, you could see how Daisy is an adventurous woman. A free spirit. And she obviously was in love with Gatsby. Then... why could she not trust him?"

"Because he had secrets," Hephaestus replied with a new-found self-confidence. "Buchanan did not leave her suddenly like Gatsby had done, even if it was to go to war. Instead, he stayed with her, even though he could have left her and be with Myrtle. He certainly had the money and connections to ruin Myrtle's husband if he tried to stop them!"

"So you're saying that she loved Buchanan less. Which makes Gatsby the love of her life!"

"I'm saying that love is not always the answer! Gatsby lied and kept things from her. He never told her how come he ended up with all that wealth in the first place. Plus, no offense to your favourite character, but he was a stalker."

Ares suddenly felt the tables turn. He had undermined Hephaestus. The creep had understood the story far better than he had. Perhaps he could also read Aphrodite as easily as that if he let him.

"Interesting viewpoint," he said. "But how exactly is Gatsby a stalker? Back in the nineteen-twenties, people didn't exactly have the luxury of the technology that we enjoy now. And the mansion that he bought is far away from hers."

"No, but it's right across from the pond. And he held one big party after another, hoping that she would show up one day. He held on to vain hopes while Daisy... She remembered him as the soldier. All right? She had fallen for him because of his uniform. She was a teenager back then and there was a war going on, I understand why she fell a victim to his charms. But when she saw him again she was older, wiser, and had a baby to think of. A mother can't just leave her child behind and follow her heart!"

"So, if she didn't have a kid, she would have followed him."

"Still I doubt so. She had not fallen for the man in the expensive suits. In her mind, she had a very different idea about him. She didn't like the way he had become. Perhaps she had taken him on as her lover for old time's sakes, or just to cure her curiosity or make peace with the past, I don't know. But she left him when she figured out she could not trust him. I repeat, that's the key word. Trust! Honesty! That's how cooperation and balance comes about!"

Ares could not believe his ears. He had hardly expected such an in-depth character analysis by someone like Hephaestus. But he only had one trump card left: "Do you happen to know why I asked you about this book... Old Sport?"

Hephaestus scoffed: "As a matter of fact, no. But it was an interesting novel, so I would like to thank you for introducing me to it. It was far easier to read than _War and Peace_. Now, if you'd-"

Ares raised his hand: "Let's just keep it there if you don't mind. I'm too drunk and tired to analyze literature. If you really want to talk about it, though, Princess Athena is right over there."

Both Hephaestus and Ares looked at the dancing couples. The Prince gulped down the rest of his wine at once. The plans had changed. Now, he had to make Hephaestus his friend, so that he could keep a close eye on him at all times and know what his next moves would be. Otherwise, he would beat Ares with his very own weapons.

Ares gulped down the rest of his wine at once. He spotted Aphrodite. She had stopped dancing with her father and was now keeping company to three actresses her age. He had no idea what they were laughing about and neither did he care to find out.

Hephaestus drew a deep breath, about to say something, but Ares excused himself and stood up. He had to go straight to the very woman that ignited that discussion in the first place.

He just needed her own opinion on the subject. As soon as possible.

* * *

Life is just so full of surprises, don't you think?

One minute, you're dancing with a brother-turned-lover, then you dance with your father and king, and suddenly you're not dancing with anyone. Instead, you are simply enjoying yourself at long last and have just made a few new friends.

They're actresses. We're basically star-struck by each other.

What, I have the right to admire other people too!

Gosh, the champagne has kicked in. I might have had another couple of glasses after I danced with Zeus Almighty...

But I don't regret it. It was fun while it lasted.

And suddenly, here comes a firm hand to hold you hostage and pull you before a huge man that looks like Ares.

Honestly, he is the perfect gentleman when he wants to be. Sometimes, he acts like the bull in the china store. And others, he just combines the two.

Like now.

"Ladies, you'll excuse me, may I kidnap Her Royal Highness?"

One hand on my forearm, his other arm around my shoulders like a snake, he pulls me away from the actresses and on a corner of the wall. Once we are away from any possible eavesdroppers, he makes me face him and he says:

"Tell me, once and for all. If you were Daisy, who would you pick?"

"Not that again..." I plead.

For a tipsy man though, he has one hell of a tight grip: "Answer me."

I stop on my tracks. To avoid raising suspicion, I make sure to keep at a safe distance. I don't know why. Precautions, I suppose.

"What made you believe I'm Daisy in the first place?"

He relaxes his hold of me and stands up straight. He doesn't answer.

"Look," I tell him. "If you want to start a book club, you're free to do so. Just don't count me in for that kind of ride."

That confused him: "So what does that mean?"

I lower my voice: "Side street. Tonight."

He grins mischievously. I know that smile well! That was the kind of answer Ares was waiting for. I tease him a bit more: "Isn't that much better than a book club?"

He smiles wider: "I'll be waiting, then."

I return the favour: "Good."

With a wink, he walks away.

London may not be that far away, after all.

* * *

 _A few hours later..._

 _Reception Hall, Royal Palace_

Ares stared at his watch. Two thirty. Just as he had predicted it.

One by one, all of the guests were slowly leaving. Zeus, Hera, and Aphrodite were standing in line, bidding them goodbye. Parked outside the Palace were their cars and an omnibus, waiting to take them to their hotels and houses.

"I'm so tired, I might as well fall asleep in the car!" Athena said.

Ares turned to look at her. She was sitting with Hestia, Demeter, and Eris at a nearby table. All of the women had removed their heels and were enjoying one last glass of champagne before an aide would inform them that their minibus had arrived. Since there were no journalists around anymore, there was no need for them to travel in three different cars.

Luckily for him, Ares didn't have to worry about such things. Thus, he was free to take in that marvel of a woman that was Aphrodite. Her lustrous gown accentuated her slender, statuesque figure in all the right places. He could look at her all he wanted now. During the gala, he tried as much as possible to keep from staring at her

perfectly shaped curves and firm breasts, for fear that he would get caught. Rooms full of people were dangerous; there were always some people staring at a most intimate moment. Especially when half the guests were members of his own family.

But now, he could admire her all he wanted. Aphrodite was shaking hands with the wife of the Prime Minister, smiling wide as she was listening to her appraisals for the wonderful party. She had removed her long black gloves and her shawl was falling loosely on her arms. A few moments later, the butler walked in to inform them that the minibus and the Crown Princess's car had arrived.

It was the subtle message that the night was officially over.

After everyone kissed each other goodnight, Ares saw Eris and Eileithyia make their way upstairs via a side door, heels in hand. Almost immediately, Zeus landed on a chair and unbuttoned his bow.

"At long last, it's over!"

"Yes, it did go on, didn't it?" Hera replied, happy to be finally sitting down.

"You enjoyed it though. So that's good."

Ares had neither the time nor the mood to listen to their discussion. Excusing himself, he walked upstairs as well. He didn't want to waste another minute. The thrill of what would follow made him rush up the stairs faster than he had ever done before. He was determined to prove Hephaestus wrong. Aphrodite would show up at their date. The signs were all there. Especially during their dance. There was no way she would stand him up at the very last minute.

While making his way to the private quarters, he removed his bow and jacket. His PA had already reassured him via text message that the motorcycle he wanted was already parked in the gardens of the Palace, helmets in tow. Zeus might have told him that he did not want him to be any close to his sister for the remainder of his stay, but he would not follow His Majesty's orders this time. His General had reassured him that he could take an extra day off, seeing that he was a member of the Royal Family. So, he was returning to the Army Base the day after Christmas. There were just too many things he wanted to do with her in those few days he had left!

Tonight was a good start. If everything went according to plan, then a huge wall would have been torn down. Then he could finally get what he wanted.

Her in his arms again.

* * *

 _2:45 A.M._

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

I am awfully tired. Exhausted, in fact.

But life is out there, waiting for me. I want to grasp it, smell it, taste it.

It makes me feel alive again.

My friendly maid is in her pajamas. Poor thing had been waiting for me to come home so that she could help me change. She never asks questions. Just gets on with the job.

My gown is lying on the bed, my heels are by the bed and Blanche is sleeping on her pillow. My wig is on its stand and I look at my reflection in the mirror as the metamorphosis takes place. The change of my appearance...

She is holding one small tuft of my hair at a time, twirling it until it forms a very tiny roll, secured by a bobby pin. She's nearly done, currently finishing the back of it. To spare precious time, I am still wearing the same makeup. I don't worry about getting recognized. The wig is my best friend. It has come to my rescue more than once.

Plus, it's made of real hair. The perfect cover.

Soon enough, she is done with my hair. I hold up my two pointer fingers, so that she can help me wear my beige wig cap. She adjusts it, so that it covers all of my hair. Once she is done, I put the wig on and she helps me. It must look natural.

"You are ready, Miss."

"Thank you, that is excellent. Well done."

I will never get used to myself as a redhead. But it's the only way. I did what Ares asked me to. I left the Princess behind.

Just another girl in the crowd...

I stand up and walk away. The night is still young and so am I.

Tomorrow can't wait.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Ladies and gents, this is the chapter you've waited for (*eager drum roll*). I won't spoil anything but this chapter is rated M. Yes, all of it. And I apologize in advance for my terribly-written smut. Believe me, I tried. You've been warned.  
**

 **Fun fact: Exarchia is the most anarchist area of Athens and perhaps the only such area in Europe left non-gentrified. If you google riots in Athens (the ones where they burn cars and trash cans), most of them take place there. It's an area full of graffiti, bars, abandoned neoclassical buildings, blocks of flats dating back to the 1970s and 1980s, and a general atmosphere of rock/hard rock, revolution, and even drugs hanging in the air. It's a favourite place for students, artists, and rebels alike, both to live and to hang out. But Athens is a multifaceted city, so it's a bit ironic that Exarchia is located right next to** ** **Kolonaki**** ** ** **(meaning 'little column')** ,** the poshest and most expensive area of Athens. In fact, when you walk from Exarchia to Kolonaki, you can see the transition in a very simple way - the number of graffiti on the buildings gradually decreases and suddenly, you go from the world of perfect anarchy to that of designer clothes and accessories, limousines, and basically the greatest show-off of wealth that you can imagine. It's an unfortunate comparison, but imagine Manhattan located right next to Brooklyn (NYC), or Chelsea located right next to Soho (London). It just felt like the perfect place for Ares to take Aphrodite to on their first _real_ date, especially considering what each represented in canon mythology :P**

 **All the songs mentioned in the chapter are given to you by title. Spares me the trouble of writing awfully long A/N's :P**

* * *

Ares brought the cigarette between his lips. Burying his other hand in the pocket of his black leather jacket, he searched for the lighter. His fingertips gently brushed against something that felt like foil. He smirked. He had grabbed some of the condoms he hid in the bottom drawer of his nightstand on his way out. That's where he kept everything he didn't want the servants to see.

Taking one out, he toyed with it in his hand. If lady luck was on his side tonight, it wouldn't go to waste.

He knew better than to go to the battlefield without his shield this time around.

He wouldn't repeat the same mistake he had made in London.

The evening would end up just the way he had been planning it for so long.

No consequences, guilt, or regrets.

Taking out the silver lighter, he brought it close to his mouth and lit up the cigarette. He inhaled the smoke, enjoying the burning sensation in his lungs. As he exhaled, he leaned back on his rented Honda. It was a far cry from the Harleys and the Ducatis his princess had gotten used to, but that was the only way to give her what she needed. It made this vision seem all the more realistic. There was room for them both on it. And it was fast enough. They could escape if they needed to.

But no one had followed him. His PA had made sure of that. As far as everyone in this whole damned country was concerned, he was sleeping soundly in the Royal Palace, miles away from the woman he desired with his heart and soul.

How ironic!

He could see her hotel from the side street he was hiding in. It was so perfectly lit up that it made Ares sick. The perfect display of tradition, glamour and wealth.

Everything they should leave behind.

They would both play the fugitives tonight. Ares had escaped from the back door of the Royal Palace, just as his family was laying down to sleep and the servants were cleaning up the tables. His parents could rest, pleased with their tacky selves for pulling off one hell of a performance.

The perfect family. The exemplary royalty. The ideal country.

But Athens was wilder than that. Constantly changing faces throughout the day, uncovering each and every single one of its different layers, never quite showing its true self.

At three o'clock in the morning, it was a city made for the wolves.

The boulevard between the hotel and the side street was deserted. Wasn't it for the occasional rushing car or the few passers-by breaking the silence with their laughter, Ares would feel like he was the only man in this goddamned town.

And she would be the only woman.

It was the oddest time to feel alive. Yet the perfect one to give in to your deepest, most sincere desires.

He was determined to destroy everything. And she would follow his lead. Willingly.

Aphrodite Olympios. Just another girl in the crowd. No longer the Crown Princess. Her royal self would be left behind in that opulent hotel suite. Along with her gown and the rest of her fancy regal attire.

She would enjoy the ride. She was born for it.

It was an intoxicating lie and a marvelous performance. One they could pull off. Simple as that.

Perfect!

* * *

I tremble all over. Call it whatever you want - enthusiasm, anticipation, eagerness, the sweet taste of sin... My heart is beating wildly and all I can think of is what awaits me on that small side street a short distance away.

Just one more step...

I escaped through the fire exit in the back of my room. It's a classic, I know. But also damn practical. There's no stumbling upon strangers or security in here.

My bodyguards are stupid. All this time I had to go through the kitchens when all this time, this was a far more safer solution. And a far quicker one as well. It leads straight to a back door and from there, all I need is to to cross the street and meet Ares at Point Zero.

The mere thrill of it is worth every second. And I'm not even close!

You might say that I am sailing in dangerous waters. But I am no longer the girl that I was in London. This one, the new me, is far more confident. She knows what she's doing.

I don't want to come back. This is the first real adventure I've had in over a year.

And I need it. I long for it. Like I need the very air to breathe.

Plus, I am sober enough to enjoy it yet both drunk and exhausted enough to have absolutely no regrets afterwards.

I reach the heavy iron door at the very back of the building. That's it. Freedom is standing right behind it. I can smell it. Feel it. Taste it.

It's the sweetest temptation I've ever had.

You bet that I might let it just slip through my fingers but I have other plans.

There's a heart beating inside me and I will go where it takes me.

Even if the dynamite explodes, destroying everything within reach.

* * *

Ares threw his cigarette to the ground and stomped on it. Fiercely.

Impatiently, he stared at his watch. Any moment now.

She had sent him the signal five minutes ago. The lights in the living room of her Suite had been turned on for ten seconds. Then they had gone off again.

It was subtle, brief, and easy to understand.

Certainly, that chubby maid of hers helped her too. She did look like she could keep a secret.

Once again, he breathed out the smoke and turned to look at the boulevard. Then he saw her. She was crossing the street in a hurry, knowing all too well where she ought to go.

As if she had been doing that for years. Maybe she had. But Ares had neither the time nor the mood to ask.

They had to rush before the sun would rise. The magic could only last until the first ray of sunlight. Otherwise, the illusion they were trapped in would simply fade away.

They couldn't remain strangers for much longer.

She was dressed simply, like he had instructed her. Just a pair of blue jeans, a white wool sweater, a coat, and black boots. Yet the red wig stood out. The perfect camouflage.

The darkness of the side street helped them hide from the truth as well. Most light was coming from the boulevard and the store windows. All the houses and apartments were locked up, engulfed in the darkness. Its residents were oblivious to what was happening right outside their doors and underneath the balconies, too trapped as they were in their stupid worries and the same old, boring routine.

Of course they would whine; their lives were so freaking easy!

They could not imagine what a great accomplishment it was for the princess to flee her tower. She was determine the life of an ordinary girl her age. Daring the things that would shock everyone if they happened on broad daylight.

Even her.

But, as the French say, _c'est la vie._

* * *

I don't think twice. The boulevard is empty; everyone is asleep; Ares is right across the street.

I run straight to him, not even making sure that there are no cars passing by.

How strange, that the busiest and loudest main street in Athens is now fully deserted!

It sounds an awful lot like a movie, doesn't it?

Ares is leaning back on his black motorcycle, hands in pockets, eyes fixed on me.

The mere sight of him dressed like that, in his blue jeans, sneakers, and black leather jacket, still unshaved, is enough to send shivers down my spine and make me feel like there are various butterflies flying in my stomach. He looks like a tramp. But a very hot one at that.

There I said it.

I'm as eager and anxious as I was at fifteen and used to take small sneaky peaks at him through the keyhole at the adjacent door separating our bed chambers. It's my own guilty little secret. No one knows; not even him.

But now, there is no need using subtle displays to show of our lustful affection for each other.

We're no longer actors in a movie; we're just us. No longer hiding behind masks or fake facades. Just a woman and a man, living the best that life has to offer.

Adventure. The whole damn wild round.

This is ridiculous. Just two hours ago, he was wearing a tuxedo, we were in a lavish ballroom, and propriety was keeping us slaves. Now, it feels like the world is ours for the taking.

No strings attached.

London was completely different. He was in an Armani suit; I was wearing Dior; it was an expensive night club; Chelsea was full of people.

But Athens is empty, awfully quiet, and thrillingly scary.

I cross the main street, for the first time ever without my bodyguards escorting me or the traffic being stopped for my sake. It's different. It feels liberating.

I approach Ares, but he doesn't take his hands off of his pockets. He doesn't even turn to look at me either. As if he, too, had been playing a role all evening and now he's back to his good old self.

The true him.

I can't blame him, though, can I?

I no longer hide behind a mask. He can see my face. The look in my eyes, my expressions, every single goddamn feeling of mine as it is reflected in my glare and expressions.

It's me. His so-called sister. His lover. The woman who had loved him silently for years.

I suffered for it. And so did he. I can see it in his eyes. So, what are we waiting for?

Then I notice that something is different. That is not his motorcycle.

"What became of th-"

"Not tonight," he replies coolly, as if he could read my mind. Then he turns to look at me. There's this childish gleam in his stare, like he has caused trouble on purpose. As if looking to see how people will react. Damn his games! "Not for where we're going."

I can't take it anymore. All that secrecy, the veil of place surround that place he's taking me to.. He knows I love surprises. But the more I wait, the more eager I grow.

I won't ask him, though. He's stubborn as a mule. He'll never tell a thing, even if I tickle him all over.

He turns to face the motorcycle. Opening the seat, he takes out two helmets. One for him, and one for me. As he hands me mine, he says:

"Care to join me. If you're still curious, of course."

I don't think twice or look back. He has me on a leash and I can neither debate it or ask for more time to contemplate. We're living for the moment tonight.

Regrets are a thing of the past.

I put on my helmet and the sudden feeling of security comes rushing back. The instinctive sense that now I'm hiding from everyone - including myself - and that this is life.

If only my bodyguards could see me now!

Ares is faster. He has already put his helmet on and climbs on the motorcycle. I take my place behind him as he turns the key in the ignition. I ask him to remain in place, though. It's not easy trying to wear a helmet on top of a wig. I have to make sure that my hair stay in place.

It takes a while and he's growing all the more impatient.

"I thought you were curious!" he says, his voice somewhat muffled due to the helmet hiding his face.

"I am!" I reply, more irritated at my helmet hair than his own frustration. Luckily for both of us however, I'm done with it soon enough.

I put my arms around his waist to hold on to him. Without wasting a second, he drives away. Suddenly, memories of London come to life. Here I am again, sitting behind him, my hands touching his toned torso and once again I run my fingers playfully all over him, teasing him as much as he cannot take it any longer. My revenge for all the years he didn't dare take the chance.

I used to do it during every single of our escapades as teenagers. I was hoping that he'd stop at a dark alley or a deserted park and it'd happen right there, even if it was just a kiss.

It'd be more than enough for me.

London put an end to his restraints. It happened; it was inevitable; I would gladly do it all over again.

But tonight is better.

We're older, wiser, and freer. There are no security guards chasing after us, no need to sneak into the first cheap hotel we could find. No fear that the journalists would find out and that there would be pictures of us dirty dancing with each other.

We're free to do as we please. The cold and dark of the night help.

I use the chilling December night as an excuse to bring my body closer to his, clinging to him as tightly as I can. He tries to remain calm, not letting his own frustration and anticipation show.

I'm free. I'm young. I'm alive.

And I enjoy every damn second of it.

"Hold on tight, Princess!" Ares says as he speeds. We're out in the deserted boulevard, the hotel to my right.

"It's only going to be a five-minute ride!" he furthers. "So you had better enjoy it while it lasts!"

I'm determined to. We're passing by all the landmarks of Athens. After doing the round of Syntagma Square, we pass by the Greek Parliament. That enormous coral neoclassical building that is also the former Royal Palace, now is perfectly lit up to detail, not a single detail left out of sight. Ares speeds up even more before it disappears from sight, nearly sending the motorcycle flying and me giggling like a naughty five year old. He loves to do that every single time we pass through here! The boulevard is empty, safe for the occasional car or even bus passing us through. No one can guess who we are, not even remotely. I am not riding side saddle like a damsel in distress either. I know better than to be a lady at this point. Driving wild as we are, we pass through the neoclassical headquarters of the Bank of Greece. To the other side of the street are the Athens Academy, the Deanery of the University of Athens, and the National Library of Greece - all three buildings perfectly arranged one right next to the other to resemble ancient Greek buildings and each with their well-tended gardens in front of the main entrance. It's a pretty touch amidst the modern and ugly blocks of flats and taller buildings housing other companies, stores, or even apartments. But true to form, the Council of State and the Reception Hall of the University of Athens - both one next to the other - are housed in buildings similar to those mentioned above.

The second Ares turns to a side street, Athens stops being pretty. Instead of colourful and well-taken care of, it is left to its own devices and shows its true face - one of the many. It's a city made of concrete and it's not afraid to show it. Most buildings are grey and, safe for the majority of the ugly and tall blocks of flats on either side of the road, there is the occasional abandoned nineteenth-century building and the graffiti on the walls and tents of the stores. Some of those are political slogans, some artistic expressions, and some are clearly sexual drawings. The streets are lit well enough for me to see them, that dreadful orange light that keeps you from seeing clearly every detail of the road.

But Ares doesn't care much about playing the tourist. He's driving like we're still being chased after, trying to make up for the hours we wasted in the gala. His love for speed used to terrify me in the past and I would often urge him to slow down for fear I'd fall off the motorcycle, landing face-down on the street.

Yet now, he makes me feel the safest I have ever felt. I trust him.

Come what may.

We're passing all the red lights without looking back. A sense of adrenaline fills the air and we both want to keep the sun from rising for as long as possible. All the while, I never stop holding on to him. He makes me feel like we're unbeatable.

Like no one can catch us.

Perhaps that's what adventure feels like for ordinary people too. Except that they never get to know the sweet taste of the breaking the rules and disappearing into the night. We managed to break free of our invisible chains keeping us tied to in the back seats of our luxurious cars, surrounded by police motorcycles.

We're like prisoners; only that our cages are bigger and golden.

Tonight is the only chance we have. To live. To love. To feel alive before we're forced to go back to our world.

I would be a damn fool if I let the night pass me by!

Suddenly, the streets get darker and narrower. Cars are parked on the left side of the street, hardly allowing any room for further speeding. As if on cue, Ares slows down and goes like this the rest of the way, stopping only when we reach a small square. There are two renovated neoclassical buildings in sight - one painted pink and the other orange. They're both two stories high and with a small balcony on the second floor. But perhaps, when they were still bursting with life, they could never have guessed that one day, they'd end up being half-covered in various colourful and meaningless graffiti and that the area surrounding them would be too loud. There's music coming from everywhere, all genres and songs mixing so gently with one another that I can hardly recognize each genre. Very much like the smell of this place. They all mix together. It smells of drugs, teargas, fire, alcohol, and old buildings. Like there's a strike about to happen.

If it has not already and this is them celebrating.

"We're almost there," Ares says, bringing me back to reality. Only then I realize how much of a fool I must have seemed, looking around me as if I had never seen any place like that before. Which, as a matter of fact, I haven't. "Look around you. You'll never come back here!"

Oh great...

I know where we are. Hence him keeping mum about the location.

We're in Exarchia. This is the only area in the whole whole world which I am not allowed to visit, under any circumstances. No exceptions. Same goes for the rest of the Greek Royal Family. Or whatever head of state happens to visit us. The most dangerous quarter in Athens for us 'representatives of the elite', where the most inflammatory riots always take place, the sole truly anarchist quarter in Europe - if not the world - left non-gentrified.

It's marked with a huge red X on the map our security details possess, which shows the areas that are safe enough for us to visit without causing an uproar or risking our lives. This is the forbidden zone.

And I'm standing right in its central square.

I'm the future Queen of the Hellenes, for heaven's sake! The most major representative of the institution they all despise in here. I shouldn't have accepted Ares' challenge. Now it's too late for me to back down.

"You can really smell the anarchy in here, can't you?" Ares says as we are still driving through smaller roads, in search of what he's looking for. I can spot a few abandoned buildings and various blocks of flats, but they are all covered in graffiti, some more and some less so, but they are painted as far as the artists' hands could reach. The streets aren't the best lit ones, so I can't see them clearly, except for one. On a wall to the side of a store, someone had copied the official picture of Zeus Almighty's twenty years of reign. He and Hera pose in their sashes, him wearing his medals and her wearing the Greek Emerald Parure - the grandest and most expensive array of jewelery that we own, consisting of a tiara with big emerald sapphires encircled with diamonds, a matching necklace, and a brooch. The graffiti looks almost identical to the photo, except for one tiny difference: they're displayed as vampires soaking up the nation's blood. Right behind them lies a dead woman in Grecian outfits. The personification of Greece, perhaps. And at a close distance nearby, another graffiti displays Father in a bikini, one hand at his crotch and the other holding an unborn child.

To say that all these artworks make me nervous is an understatement. If they can show the King in such a way, I can only imagine what they have in handy for me.

But Ares seems to know the place like the back of his palm. I wish I could share his feeling of ease, but the deeper into the side streets we delve, the more I fear that we might be shot any minute now by a fanatical anti-monarchical anarchist or the leader of the radical republican movement. If that exists. But here, everything that can cause a riot makes itself at home.

Wide-eyed as I am beneath the helmet, I pinch Ares. He flinches slightly but he doesn't lose control of the motorcycle. But I just can't keep it in. I don't want any snipers to find out I'm here. And he has definitely crossed the line this time!

"Do you have any idea what you just did?!"

But he simply shrugs his shoulders and acts as if nothing is the matter:

"Just showing you around. Relax!"

How easy for him to say!

"Was there no where safer for us to go?"

Until he replies, we have entered another side street - a little wider than the ones we crossed so far - and I realize we're still in the central square. Only one that is not visited as much, judging by the much-reduced amount of graffiti and posters for strikes and protests, festivals dedicated to communism and the anti-fascism mouvement, as well as various different concerts, mostly of Greek artists known for their outspoken political liberalism.

He keeps quiet until he parks his Honda in front of a tree left untrimmed for far too long. Almost immediately, he removes his helmet and looks at me.

"Show your face, Doll!"

But I can't do that. I don't want to be eaten alive.

He doesn't seem to have the patience for my own self-pity, however. Getting off his motorcycle, he towers over me and gently grabs my arm, leaning towards me: "I've been here plenty of times to know that it's safe. Trust me. I wouldn't have brought you here if I knew you'd be in danger. They don't hurt women in here. Only policemen. And each other."

That doesn't sound very reassuring but he does seem pretty confident. So, I guess now I don't have a choice but to follow his lead.

I get off his Honda and I remove my helmet almost immediately. Lesson of the day. Wigs and helmets don't mix. In fact, they give you worse helmet hair than your actual hair could ever dream of offering you.

Ares helps me put it back in place. He reassures me that it looks less weird than it did before. Then he shows me to a small house. It must be even older than the neoclassical buildings I saw a while ago, judging by the grey concrete added to its white walls to hide any old holes that might have opened with time and its old iron front gate. It has obviously been painted one time too many, but it's still standing tall and proud, unaffected by time. It even has a small garden filled with orange trees and jasmine bushes which must are taller than the gate. Rock music is coming from deep within and the smell of alcohol and drugs is obscured by that of the flowers in the front garden.

I keep staring at it, mouth agape. It is odd, how perfectly hidden it is in such an invisible place. It's surrounded by tall blocks of flats and tall trees, but they're far from forming a forest. I guess the garden and the old iron gate serve as the perfect facade. All those passers-by must be thinking that an old couple might be living there, too tired from life to even consider seeking a new and perhaps more comfortable and quieter home. There are no signs outside or anything that might tell the guests any different. But the music and the smell tell a different story.

Ares, ever the braver of the two, takes the first step. He opens the small gate and he shows me inside. There's a small stone pathway and thick jasmine bushes on either side of it. But they're all trimmed well and there's plenty of light to make it easier for the visitors to approach the house a short distance away.

It is small, no bigger than a tiny cottage actually, and it's white, with dark blue window frames. The main door is painted in the exact same colour and right next to it, there's a neon marquee reading: _Midnight Nemesis._

Ares' hand resting on the low of my back, he gives me a gentle push, indicating me to open the door. But I can't just go somewhere without knowing what it is. Especially not in this place, trust him as I might.

"What is this place?" I ask, not wasting a moment and still focused on the marquee. All of the windows are shut, so I can't take a peak inside through them either. He seems more than happy to explain:

"A rock club."

I turn to face him. He had mentioned briefly once, twelve years ago, that one day we would visit one of those. When we'd be old enough... It'd be our last escapade before becoming the serious and mature adults that Zeus Almighty had always demanded us to be.

"I've never been to one of those," I utter, feeling guilty all of a sudden.

He looks surprised: "Not even in New York?"

Somehow, I think I had promised him I'd visit one of these before I left for the U.S. when I was eighteen and had to attend Columbia. The Hard Rock Cafe didn't count. It'd be pure cheating. To make sure I wouldn't falter, he had even written to me a birthday card filled with instructions. They had to feel real and forbidden. Whatever that meant.

I giggle: "That would have given my mother a heart attack!"

I'm not exaggerating. Alright, maybe just a little. You see, Mother is the very definition of the perfect upper-class lady. Down to a T. Everything, from the posture to the pronunciation scream 'old money' from miles away. I cannot even imagine how she'd react if she would find out I visit one of these places! As for Father, I don't worry about him much. He's been through worse. And it's not always my fault.

Still, Ares doesn't look any less surprised than he did two minutes ago.

With that smirk of his that I love to hate so much, he puts his hands in his pockets and leans back. Still, I seem amusing enough to him. The clueless younger sister...

"Are you trying to tell me that I am the first guy to do the honours?"

"Not a bad situation to find yourself in, is it?"

He laughs, catching the reference. Then I look at the marquee again.

" _Midnight Nemesis,_ " I read. "That's an odd name."

"Its owners are in a band," he explains. "They named the bar after it. It always opens at one in the morning, three times a week."

"It's loud," I can't help stating the obvious.

"It's supposed to be," he replies. "You can't have fun in silence!"

That I know to be true. I stay fixed in place, still trying to take everything in. Having grown impatient, Ares steps in front of me and pushes open the door. Then he turns back to me again. "Now, Doll, are you ready to be just another girl in the crowd?"

I do notice how he's gone back to using my second nickname. I don't question why, though. The Princess is left behind, back at the hotel, to cry herself to sleep at night and weep for the chances she isn't courageous enough to take.

As for me, I'll just enjoy being alive.

I don't expect Ares to play the perfect gentleman or to escort me. There's hardly any room or need for him to do that here. But still, he is still kind enough to keep the door open for me, so that I can step inside.

When I pass him by, however, he still grabs my arm: "Remember," he whispers in my ear. "Tonight, we're not who we really are."

I simply nod. Then, at long last able to see what the big fuss has been about, I draw a deep breath and step inside.

The first thing I see is a small and narrow staircase going down. I expect it to lead to a second, perhaps heavier, door. Instead, it takes us straight to the dark room which is illuminated only by a red light bulb hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room. No cover. There are also small table lamps on the counter in one corner, where the drinks are being served. There are no tables, unless the shelves on the walls, where the customers place their glasses, count as such. Perhaps the house was separated into different rooms once upon a time, but most interior walls have certainly been demolished, making the whole house one room. Except for a small room behind the barman's counter, but I guess the drinks and the music equipment need a place to be stored in.

This kind of music does sound familiar, and I am pretty sure I have heard of this song before, but I wouldn't say it's the kind I listen to.

Still, though, this night is nothing like I've experienced before. And this place is none like the ones I'd visit in the past.

This one smells Ares from miles away. I'm part of his world now.

More so than I was before.

* * *

The Scorpions' _Rock You Like A Hurricane_ could be heard all over the room when Aphrodite stepped inside. Ares was certain that she would like the surprise. He knew her doubts would fade away and soon enough, she would enjoy the challenge of mingling into the world.

She was ready to discover that new world. He could see it in her eyes. She wanted to take everything in. Like she was seeing the world for the first time. If she was exhausted or sleepy, she didn't let it show. Instead, she was constantly looking around her eagerly, staring at the posters of all the heavy metal bands on the walls, the few vinyl discs hanging from the ceiling, and the other customers filling the room.

The smoke from their cigarettes stifled the air but she didn't care about it - at least ostensibly. Other than that, she seemed perfectly relaxed. Ares blamed it on the wig and his presence. As if those two were enough to keep her safe from harm, her only fault being to be born a royal and to visit the wrong place.

Ares was confident that no harm could come to her. He knew that place well; it was safe.

Yet, he would do her favour. He would follow her lead and fulfill her every desire. But not so easily. Her beauty and seductiveness weren't enough to make him submit. He had planned out the entire evening. It wouldn't do to spoil it.

It was a treasure hunt. He'd give her various hints and she'd have to follow them to get to the gift. She was what he was after and she knew it. But playing games is what they always did. It was the thrill of the kill. He had to tread carefully, although he could see she was ready to fall into his arms. But if she could be a tease, so would he.

If he were lucky enough, the game would be over soon enough.

They only had tonight.

* * *

I let Ares have the upper hand.

He seems pleased with his sudden and newly found sense of authority. Still, he continues to act like the perfect gentleman, allowing me to walk in front of him and showing me where to sit. But he doesn't pull back the bar stool for me to sit. That'd look out of place, wouldn't it?

Funnily enough, it's only after we sat down and Ares has ordered our first drink (whiskey on the rocks, please) that I suddenly become aware of the crowd in the room.

There are about fifteen people in here, which is not much but still enough to make the place look pretty packed. Two friends are sitting nearby playing imaginary instruments - drums and an electric guitar. Those must be enjoying the music a little too much. Others either drink in silence, converse, or just listen to the songs.

They're all dressed very simply and casually. Just a plain pair of blue jeans and a sweater on top. Their coats are kept nearby, tucked in on the stools or hanging from under the shelves. Some are still wearing their jackets, like Ares and me. There's no cloakroom anywhere, or a person responsible for that job at least, so I guess I should just endure the lack of space.

But Ares doesn't seem to mind. Neither do the other customers. I suppose I should just follow their lead. After all, I'm the fish out of the water here. Much as I want to mingle.

Out of the blue, Ares touches my knee.

I flinch, taken aback by the unexpected gesture. I must look pretty stressed, because he looks at me worriedly.

"Relax!" he says soothingly.

"That's not it," I reply touching my glass that is still full. I'm not a big fan of whiskey, to be honest. It smells like rat poison and I guess it also tastes like it. But Ares is in charge tonight and he seems comfortable in this place. I guess I should just follow his lead, then.

He's leaning back on the stool, resting against the counter. I simply sit in place, knees touching, trying to make this bar a home, or at least try to make it look like it. Everyone in here seems to feel this way about this tiny house. They must know I am the outsider then.

Ares, once more, interrupts my trail of thoughts: "Then what is it?"

"It's..." I don't know quite how to word it. It's all so... unusual. So new. "It's a different world."

He grins and takes his drink in his hand. I keep staring at him as he brings it close to his lips and takes a short sip. He doesn't take his eyes off of me either.

The game is on.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, Doll."

But still, this evening feels so magical to be true. I know it will break the spell, but I can't help it. I beg to ask the question:

"But do you-"

He cuts me short by bringing his pointer finger to my lips.

"I said, no questions."

His wish is my command. Seeing as he doesn't remove his hand, though, I kiss his fingertip gently, to reassure him about that. He seems awfully pleased with himself. Smiling like the cat that spilled the milk. The fool!

"Now look around you," he adds, that awful smirk never leaving his face. "Tell me what you see."

I see people just... enjoying life. It's almost four in the morning on a weekday, but they're still up, not caring about the consequences. Or perhaps they're unemployed and have nowhere to go in the morning. They're the very reason Athens is called 'The City That Never Sleeps' , I suppose. They truly do put New York to shame. Especially Manhattan.

All my life, I've only ever visited high-end night clubs and fancy restaurants that most people can only dream of. Everywhere I go, there is someone there to take our coats and people to make sure our glasses don't remain empty for long. If it is a social event, there are photographers lurking about too and the minute I step inside, all eyes suddenly are on me. It makes people feel awkward, especially the ones that are in my company for the evening.

Hence the red wig. It's rather ridiculous, but it's the only way I can ensure that everyone will enjoy themselves without feeling too intimidated by me.

I am just not used to feeling so... unnoticed. I know, it sounds ridiculous. But we entered without having to show our IDs, give our names, or show our faces to a big guy to make sure that we can enter. No one here gives a damn about who I am and what I represent. For once, my clothes aren't widely discussed, I don't live in fear that a camera might suddenly pop out of someone's pocket or purse, or about people whispering. Everyone seems too enclosed into their own world, I could kiss Ares in public and they wouldn't pay us any attention!

It's weird... I just never could imagine, not even in my wildest dreams, that for once I could enjoy a night out without my security details in tow, in a crowd that doesn't care about my status or fame. And in my home country!

I don't know if that makes me feel free or nervous, but I still find this place a bit odd. The people here despise the Monarchy to the very core, yet they live us - the very embodiment of it - enjoy our drinks in silence.

Maybe the exhaustion of the long day and the gala is taking its toll on me. Try as I might, I can't help feeling that something will go wrong. The night just seems so... perfect. Definitely nothing like I've experienced before.

Ares can definitely see it in my eyes. He stares at me just for a fleeing moment, the smirk still on his face. Then he turns to the barman. Both men are leaning forward. Ares whispers something and the stranger keeps nodding in agreement. All this time, that man had been standing in the corner, pouring one drink after another to the empty glasses maybe. All that time, he didn't even pay the slightest attention to us. Or, if he has, at least he's decent enough not to let it show.

He's in his mid-thirties, with very long, unruly hair and a much-worn T-shirt even though it's December. He, too, is wearing black jeans and there are chains hanging from his pockets. I suppose I just figured the dressing code, then. I must admit, I do look rather colourful compared to everyone else in here. For one thing, my outfit has more than one colour on it. Suddenly, the man disappears into the small room behind him. Within a few seconds, the song stops abruptly which causes a small uproar by the customers that were having fun. While the crowd uproars, begging for more, Ares tells me:

"Now, rock is simple. It's just like jazz."

I'm surprised by the comparison. I could never have imagined that Ares' favourite genre and mine would be similar in the slightest. Turns out I'm wrong. He sounds awfully sure of himself... He leans back on his chair again, points at the speaker on the wall behind the counter and adds: "You have to listen!"

I sit up on my chair and try to pay attention to the music.

This is suddenly getting interesting!

* * *

Everything was going according to plan. Aphrodite had no idea what was coming up next and the bartender had all the songs ready. Ares had handed him a playlist a few days ago. Ten songs, all from the 1980s, each single one telling a different story. They would all play in the row he had suggested.

Aphrodite would understand the meaning of this. She was smart enough. Besides, songs were easier than books. People could interpret them as they wished.

The very first one on the list was _Poison_ by Alice Cooper. One of the classics.

He figured he'd start with the most obvious one. It'd make her life easier.

Perhaps it could spare him precious time too.

But in case she wouldn't get the message the first time, he had other songs in handy. He could wait.

If she wished him to, that is.

* * *

The sound of an electric guitar fills the room. It doesn't exactly go fast but it's not slow either. Rather, it keeps a steady pace, playing the same melody over and over. Suddenly, it comes to a halt and only the sound of the drums is heard. One second, two, three. Then the singer's husky voice is heard:

 _Your cruel device_

 _Your blood like ice_

 _One look could kill_

 _My pain, your thrill_

Those lyrics don't really make much sense. Or I may be too tired to pay attention to them. Either way, I don't know if they're positive or negative. Then suddenly the chorus enters, faster and more upbeat. The singer sings about eagerly longing to touch his loved one, but he's unable to because loving her is too dangerous.

OK, now that makes more sense, but connecting it with the verse-

Hold on a second... I think I know what Ares is playing at. Yes, that does explain everything. Him whispering into the barman's ear, then him disappearing behind a closed door, why the previous song was interrupted so abruptly...

It's all part of Ares' plan!

He's playing the seducing game!

What a smart way of doing so! It's certainly different. And the most original one that anyone I've dated so far has come up with.

The second chorus is definitely doing the trick as well. "Your web, I'm caught"... Then "black lace on sweat"...

London.

The song has nothing to do with it. We couldn't be caught dead listening to it to that nightclub in Chelsea. But those lyrics... Ares had whispered them to me in his husky, lustrous and hungry voice that night in London, in that hotel, tangled between the sheets...

I want the night to end that way too. No matter what old bed we happen to land on this time around. It could also be the floor. I wouldn't mind. Even if I had to go through everything that followed all over again. But I still would end up having absolutely no regrets.

Yes, I have thought about it over and over. It's all I've been doing for the past few months that followed that night. I didn't feel any sort of guilt back then and I still don't. To be honest, every time I remember that night, I have the same reaction I had when I left the room, all too aware of the fact that I had left him behind, naked, worn out, and damn pleased with himself. I still find myself smiling proudly at the memory that is still vivid. I feel light as a feather then, knowing all too well that everything in my messy life suddenly pieces itself together and makes so much sense... My legs were trembling out of the exhaustion and the excitement, much as I managed to conceal it afterwards. Yet, I don't have the slightest hesitation to admit that I'd do it all, relive every single second of that wild night, over and over again.

Tonight, at long last, my wish will be granted.

But I shouldn't rush it. Ares has come up with a plan. It's a game to make things excited. He's proud to have the upper hand for a change, to be the one in charge. To have the absolute control.

How the tables have turned!

Back in London, he had been my own victim. My toy. Succumbing to my every wish, allowing me to use him as I wished, to rub myself against him and dance to my heart's desire. It was all part of my ways to seduce him.

It's only fair to let him have his turn now. I'm ready.

Come hell or high water.

* * *

There was an undeniable connection between them. You didn't have to be a genius to see it.

The barkeeper definitely wasn't.

They weren't the first couple of 'undercover lovers' to spend the night there, looking for a few moments of loneliness among the crowd. But they certainly were the most famous.

He had known the Prince personally for over a decade now. They were great friends and they treated each other like adoptive brothers. He knew all about his passion for the Crown Princess, yet he couldn't tell him how sick he thought it was.

Weren't the two supposed to be some sort of siblings?

It was not his place to ask. His job was to observe human behaviour, listen to their deepest and most sincere confessions, and then to draw inspiration from their feelings and turn them into songs.

But the Prince and the Crown Princess... They felt so wrong. Yet they looked so right...

Ironically, she was widely respected at Exarchia. She was smart enough not to cause trouble and to actually take the blame for her mistakes. She was only human, after all.

But she was about to make the greatest falter she had ever made. One that would certainly destroy her life and reputation, if not the Monarchy altogether.

No one was strong enough to push her back and make sure she wouldn't fall into the void. Except for one person. The very same man in the leather jacket, who was unable to take his eyes off of her. He couldn't blame him, of course. Her famous seductive aura was lingering in the air. It could draw all eyes on her but, as if on cue, the rest of his customers respected their need for privacy.

As if they were caught in her nets and did not want to go against her wishes for fear of them cursing them for all eternity if they dared try.

Yet true love could not be concealed. Like a child, it loved to hide in all the unimaginable places, creeping in the dark corners to scare you. But once it revealed itself, no one could send it back to its hiding place. It could be seen in people's eyes, the way they suddenly liked their messy lives and the sparks that'd fly between them. It was the only real superpower.

He had seen people fall in love. He knew what it was like. The lack of distance between the couple, the electrifying chemistry, the invisible wall around them, as if they were the only two people on this earth... It made him feel like an intruder for witnessing that miracle, but there was no harm in watching.

Like magic, it unfolded before his very eyes, blinding him with its force.

It never ceased to amaze him.

And they, Ares and Aphrodite, the Prince and the Crown Princess, were two people falling for each other.

They were terrifyingly close to each other. One slip, one step, and their lips would meet. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen a couple have such an intense chemistry, like their passion had been kept in the dark for years, waiting for the right moment to surface. Or resurface.

Tonight seemed perfect.

They had definitely slept together, at least once. They looked at each other like they knew each other's bodies. Every mark, bruise, or scar. But they still wanted more.

It was a dangerous kind of addiction.

He couldn't blame them. She was a seductress and he was a warrior. It was only natural that she'd lure him into conquering her and that he would fight for her and her alone.

Under different circumstances, they could've been a match made in heaven.

But their love was doomed to fail. They were members of the same family. They knew each other too well, it took the fun of discovering each other away. She could keep Ares entertained for now, but soon enough, the magic would be gone and he would be back to his old ways, chasing after other women just for one night and never calling them back. Yet she... She was one hell of an alluring woman!

She had already entrapped him, like any other man that had fallen victim to her charms. But her grip on him would loosen the second she would find another man, someone perhaps wealthier or more handsome, to take her away and offer her another fairytale.

She was a material girl, always drawn to sparkly things. That's why she was so dangerous. Her adventures with various men were known all over the country, if not the world. Yes, she was beautiful. Like an angel, in fact. But she attracted men like moths to the flame. Every single new lover of hers was approaching her fearlessly, mesmerized by the wonderful sight and the sense of warmth, not foreseeing that he would be burned.

No, he had to warn them of what lay ahead before it was too late.

He knew just the perfect song for that. _Johnny B_ by The Hooters.

One of Ares' personal favourites.

Perhaps now he knew why.

It all came down to a woman after all!

* * *

The intro of this song sounds rather medieval. But, as fate would have it, this instrument, too, soon makes way for the electric guitar.

Something about Ares suddenly changes. He avoids my gaze and turn to face the counter. The barman walks out, oddly pleased with himself. He immediately resumes his work of serving drinks and Ares doesn't miss the opportunity to order for us another round.

I've had two whiskeys so far and I'm not used to this kind of drink. It tastes like rat poison. Or so I've heard. But it does smell as disgusting as it smells. Yet, it is part of Ares' game. It wouldn't do for me to not follow the rules.

He is in charge tonight.

With the full glass in his hand, he turns to look at me. I'm still smiling at him. The same old, lustful grin that I would give him back in London. But his eyes tell a different story. I believe I can predict what he thinks. That I'm worth all the trouble, even if I end up breaking his heart. That's how all men look at me when they realize they have no choice but to give in to me. Ares wants to be different, but deep inside, he's just like all the rest. He knows what will follow. The pain, the tears, cursing my name, destroying things... But he's ready. He will give in.

I can already see the signs.

Still, I cannot stand this silence. He must be reading my mind too, for that very second he puts down his glass and turns to face me again.

"Now, this song. Listen to it carefully."

It's halfway through the first verse. Something about chasing a dream and the woman in the story not being what she seems.

This must be the barman's doing. Excellent choice, I have to admit. Very clever.

"I don't know," I reply, acting stupid on purpose. Everything to give Ares back his self-worth and sense that he's the leader of the pack. "Someone advising his friend to stay away from a woman he's in love with."

From the corner of my eye, I can see the barman grinning as he pours in another round of drinks to some other customers nearby.

Yup. It was definitely his idea.

"Wrong," Ares says, catching me by surprise. "It's about drugs."

I look at him wide-eyed. That was... um... unexpected...

"Heroine, to be exact," he adds, taking a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. Only then do I realize that he's not the only one smoking in here. A couple of other customers do the same. But I guess the intense smell of alcohol does cover that of burned smoke. "Legend has it that this Johnny B stands for an STD. Hepatitis B."

I listen to the chorus. That interpretation does explain a lot... Although, it also fits perfectly to the context of a guy's friends warning him against a woman.

How frightfully accurate, you might think...

"Sex, drugs, and rock'n'roll," I utter.

Ares smiles again, like a teacher who's proud of his student.

"Close shot," he says, exhaling the smoke. "But that's the trick with this kind of music. They contain hidden messages. Here, for instance, heroine is compared to a wonderful woman. And he needs his dose, like a man in love needs to see his beloved. To touch her..." He turns to face me and rubs his leg against mine. He still holds his cigarette and glass of whiskey. Leaning towards me, he furthers: "To smell her..." I can feel his warm breath on my face. It smells of smoke and alcohol. "And to kiss her." Just like that, he rubs his nose against mine.

It's simple, yet torturing. If only I could stand up, our lips could collide then.

Still, it is more than enough. I can still feel the tingle down my spine and the butterflies in my stomach return.

Please, don't let him have play this game for far too long!

"It could go the other way around too," I let out, pushing him back. He's disappointed, but it's for good cause. He'll thank me later. "It can also mean that a man is so much in love with a woman that he is addicted to her, to the point that he needs her badly but can't have too much of her because she's deadly."

He brings the cigarette between his lips again: "That could also work."

Perhaps I could try to play his game too. By his own rules. I may be an amateur to this kind of fun, but I'm not entirely clueless.

I have my very own guilty pleasures as well!

The barman is standing nearby and I signal for him to approach me. He asks me if I'd like another drink but instead I lean forward. I practically climb on the counter but I don't care. He knows it's another request and he remains in place. I even cover my mouth with my hand, to keep Ares from reading my lips. Without wasting a minute, the barman returns to that small room just as _Johnny B_ is about to end. Perhaps he has some computers back there or even some DJ equipment, because the music suddenly fades out and the new song suddenly starts to play.

It's _I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight_ by The Cutting Crew.

It used to be my favourite song back in high school. But Ares doesn't know that, or the other things I did back then. I attended Le Rosey in Switzerland, the most expensive and prestigious school I could have attended. Ares was studying in Gordonstoun in Scotland. His school is famous for focusing in sports and military training, so Zeus and Hera believed it was the perfect place for him to get rid of all that adrenaline. Plus, the two countries were practically worlds apart.

Thinking about it, perhaps our parents suspected something.

Yet, even they couldn't have predicted what would follow almost a decade later.

And on their big day, too...

Ares once again exhales the smoke, a big smirk on his face. He got the message. Lucky him.

"Sometimes, parallelisms and symbolisms don't quite do the trick," I tell him. "There comes the time when it's better to just tell it as it is."

The grin only gets wider. He takes another sip of his drink and listens to me intently, as I add: "You know what I love about the song? That it's stating the obvious, yet no one can really see the true meaning of it."

His glass back on the counter, the cigarette between his lips. He takes a long drag and two seconds later, he exhales the smoke again.

"And you do?" he asks.

Poor him, sounding so awfully sure of himself! But there's no harm in turning the tables one more time. Is there?

"The question rather is, do you?"

Neither of us speaks. We simply listen to the chorus. Then the second verse:

 _Is there any just cause for feeling like this?_

 _On the surface I'm just a name on a list_

 _I try to be discreet, but then blow it again_

 _I've lost and found, it's my final mistake_

 _She's loving by proxy, no give and all take_

 _'Cause I've been thrilled to fantasy, one too many times_

It's my turn to play the master.

"You didn't say it, but you thought about it," I explain. "All the time. You just never dared admit it to yourself, that's all."

He knows perfectly well what I mean. We're allowed to have some common secrets. Much as I'm trying to forget about it, we're still family.

"It would have only made matters worse," he lets out, placing the cigarette on the ashtray. That's how you know he's done with it. He'll just let it burn for a while more, just because he enjoys the sight.

He's just like that with women too. I know. I'm one of his victims.

"Worse than it already had?" I ask. He looks at me, his elbows on the wooden counter, his hands clenched together in a fist. He's confused and tries to hide it. I chuckle: "You really don't know love, do you? Or you think you do, but your experiences with women are, well... Vulgar at best!"

He takes the glass of whiskey back in his hands. It's only half-full. But he won't ask for another refill, I know it. He's already had four. That's his limit. He had had so many in London as well. He's going to drive. Off for another taste of the forbidden fruit.

"If you say so," he whispers.

Still, there's no harm in keeping on playing, is there? With a mild touch of the truth he's too stubborn to see. Just to spice things up.

"You want to explore, but you're afraid to." I say. "Only when the urge is too great, only then do you follow your heart." He keeps staring at the whiskey left in his glass. The trick works! He knows I'm telling him the things he doesn't want to hear or admit to himself, but there is no escaping me. Still, I'm smarter than to let him slip through my fingers, just when I have him tied on my leash: "So tell me. What do you see when you look at me?"

He leans over to me. Look at him, first pulling off that amazing performance for hours on end, only to become conscious of his surroundings all of a sudden!

"This is not London," he whispers.

"Ah!" I reply, without lowering or raising my voice. "So you see the woman in London. The one with the alias, the fake accent, and the huge mask covering her face."

He shakes his head: "No. I see an enigma of a woman. Luring and seductive the one minute, demanding and cruel the next."

I can only keep it up. We're entering the final stage now. There's no room for trespassers.

"She's left you with an omen," I say, in a low voice.

"That's yet to be realized."

"If you're patient enough, it might."

He gulps down the rest of his drink. "I'd rather fight for it," he utters, putting it down.

It's so typical of him. Yet, I can't help teasing him some more: "Why?"

He shrugs his shoulders and looks me in the eye. There's that familiar gleam in there. The thrill of the kill. "It only makes the reward taste sweeter."

He chooses his words wisely. He doesn't want the glory of the victory but the prize itself.

"And what if there are no constraints, or if the reward finds you willingly?"

"What for?"

I draw a deep breath. Before we get on with it, I need to make something clear. For me. So that the slight sense of guilt I've been feeling all evening disappears. By a miracle, if I'm lucky enough. "Say she... is trapped in a situation she never wanted to be involved in. An arrangement. So to speak."

He remains silent for a few moments, contemplating the meaning of what I just said. The song is over now but neither of us cares. We have other things to worry about.

"Still," he says after a few moments. "I'd rather conquer her myself. Even if she's out in the open."

He winks. He wants to tease but I have a better comeback. Didn't he tell me a few days ago that he saw us like the heroes in a fairytale, surrounded by supernatural creatures?

"More like the princess in the tower," I utter. "Surrounded by dragons. Wouldn't you like to save her then?"

"Dragons are easy to beat. All you have to do is avoid their flames and hit them where they can't reach you."

I smirk. He knows just what spot to hit. But still, there's so much more to the fairytale than that.

"And witches? Curses? What about them?"

"I'd hunt them. Burn them."

"Even if that meant putting the princess in danger?"

He takes one last look at his cigarette. It's almost entirely burned. Without looking at me, he says: "Mine would cut off my hand if I stretched it out to help her."

Then he faces me, only to see me smiling in acknowledgment.

"She knows you well!" I say teasingly.

"And I her."

Perhaps I should try to hit him where he hurts the most. Just for the heck of it. "We'll see about that!"

His expression suddenly changes. From contemplation to anger and then to a wide acknowledging smirk.

I laugh and so does he.

The final countdown has just begun.

* * *

It all happened very fast, as if in a dream.

Once again, they both had drunk a lot to keep them from thinking straight. Yet, they both knew that there was no coming back.

They wanted it; longed for it. They just had to find the right place.

Ares just threw a fifty-euros bill on the counter. He wouldn't wait for the change. Aphrodite was holding his hand tight, urging him to hurry up. He knew that he had paid for far more than what the drinks were worth, but the barman could keep it as it was.

A way to thank him for the favour he had done him.

Before they even stepped out of the bar, Ares knew he finally had Aphrodite right where he had wanted her for so long.

In his arms.

He decided not to drive. There was no one chasing after them and he wouldn't want to wake up the entire neighborhood. It was almost five in the morning. All the bars and nightclubs were closing. Only three hours left before sunrise.

They had to rush.

It was easy for them to reach their destination. Ares knew Exarchia like the back of his palm. He could find that house easily amongst the labyrinth of the small alleys, side streets, and the darkness.

The house they were going to was safer than all the hotels they could find.

It was a part of Athens's history left to vanish, forever to remain untold. But it was in a good condition, thus making it a perfect shelter for the night. Plus, it was the only abandoned building where the homeless and the drug addicts would never dare break into.

He had promised to keep her out of harm at all costs. But comfort was a luxury they couldn't afford.

Not tonight.

They were already walking on the street with their faces uncovered. On broad daylight, that would be dangerous. But at this hour, the streets were still relatively empty. The few passers-by were busier thinking about their day and their errands than to care about them. They would have drawn a lot more attention to them if they were walking around wearing their helmets. They could have passed for criminals. Or, even worse, for undercover police officers patrolling the area.

Yet, anarchist as Exarchia was, it still allowed room for romance.

They could be forgiven for breaking into that abandoned home.

It was for a sacred cause, after all. As the Greeks liked to call it.

Plus, it was a roof above their heads.

She'd love it. He was sure of it.

* * *

We pass through the empty, dark streets, and I cling to Ares tighter, seeking his warmth.

Stupid me, I should've worn a thicker coat.

Or maybe not.

He has his strong, muscular arms around me, rubbing my arms and pushing me closer to his body. I rest my head on his shoulders and rush my pace. I'd have done a little happy dance, twirling around laughing if I wasn't as cold as I was.

I have been up for almost twenty hours, but I don't care. I can sleep later.

Now, the moment I've been so eagerly waiting for is almost there. I can smell it in the air, hear it rustling in the trees, feel it hitting us both like a wave. Again and again, never stopping, never resting.

He said he had one last surprise for me and I'm more than eager to see what it is. Although I can guess what it might be.

He wants it as much as I do.

But coming back to my hotel is impossible. We're only ten driving minutes away from it, yet it already feels like a completely different world. But looking for another, preferably cheap, hotel would be useless. Either they'll be filled with tourists who came just for the Christmas season, or they'd know what we're there for. They'd recognize us at once. Then the fun would end abruptly, just when it had come too close to absolution.

Too damn close.

Just yet another side street, though, and we're almost there. I keep holding on tight to Ares. If anyone happens to pass us by now, they'll think we're just two people in love, going for a walk in the early morning hours.

Though it wouldn't be far from the truth now, would it?

We turn to another side street. Before we become lost in their labyrinth, however, we reach our destination.

Right at the end of the road, separated from the rest of the more modern blocks of flats on either side of it, lies the two-story neoclassical house Ares told me he'd take me to. It has a small gate to the front and trees that have been left untrimmed for far too long. There's no padlock or chains to secure the gate against intruders. Still, it's full of rust and when Ares opens it, it squeaks so loudly, I think a few neighbors have certainly woken up. It certainly did the trick for a few birds hiding in the branches, which immediately fly away in fear.

"We're on our own here," Ares reassures me. "The police patrols this place often, that's why the homeless and everyone involved in crime one way or the other avoids it."

I suppose I should blame the once-garden-now-turned-forest too, for the severe lack of graffiti or other posters on the wall.

Still, it is fascinating. How this place has been buried in there for so long, to such an obvious place, yet no one bothers to disturb its eeriness. I don't know why I'm suddenly fascinated so much by it. Abandoned buildings normally scare me.

Just the thought that they used to be filled with life and now they just... aren't...

Like the difference between life and death.

But now, it will be filled with life again. I only hope it's strong enough to take it.

We pass through the small garden and I cling on to Ares harder. I don't want to imagine what odd creatures might be hiding in there, ridiculous as I may sound. This path isn't as clear as the one leading to the bar, and Ares has to help me more than enough times to climb up a fallen large tree branch or a flower bush left abandoned for far too long. I'm careful enough not to step on any dry leaves and to keep away from the mud as much as I can, all the while never leaving Ares' hand. It's pitch dark in here. I wouldn't like to imagine what might happen if I let go of him and he walks away.

But thankfully, he takes out a torch that he had with him just as soon as we reach the front door. It is blocked with a few pieces of debris, to keep it all trespassers for entering. Still, it's not a barrier good or strong enough to keep Ares away.

He puts on his leather gloves, the one he used during driving, and hands me the torch and then proceeds to tear down the five pieces of debris, one by one.

All the while, he shares with me some of the history of this place: "I know it was abandoned some ten years ago. The owners are alive, but nowhere to be found. So, the authorities can't demolish it." He puts down the last piece of debris and proceeds to kick the door. It opens with a bang and I walk inside, the torch still in my hands.

It's not in as bad a position as I imagined it. To tell the truth, I expected it to be dirtier, with termites crawling around the wooden furniture, with fallen roofs and the painting on the walls already chipping off.

Instead, it has a marble floor, some carpets are still there, and the furniture are all covered in white sheets. Carefully, I take a deep breath and walk inside. This place is more freezing on the inside than it is on the outside! But it makes sense I suppose. The sun mustn't have seen it in ages, judging by the size of those tall tress surrounding it and the shut windows.

But, nevertheless, it remains in an excellent condition.

I must have been too engulfed in playing the tourist because, the second I turn, I see Ares with a wide smirk on his face, removing his gloves and putting them back in his pockets. He's standing by a wooden staircase. It must have been the main one of the house. Back to its days of glory...

"I believe this is what you're looking for, Doll."

Without wasting a second, I approach then and climb on the first step. It squeaks. Ares, though, persists that it's safe.

"I've been here before."

"Recently I hope," I say climbing up. "And hopefully without another woman!"

He just laughs and follows me from behind. At the very end of the stairs, there's a small room wide enough to accommodate a small salon. The wooden floor squeaks, too, but it does look stable and safe enough for us to walk on. Just a sofa and a couple of armchairs. To my left, there's an open door leading to another staircase (the attic I guess) and to my right, there are three different doors in a semi-circle. Only one of them is open.

I turn to look at Ares. He nods. I step inside.

As soon as I take a peak into the room, I stop on my tracks.

It's so beautiful!

* * *

It's the simplest arrangement he could make, but Ares hoped that it would be warm enough for the night.

A couple of blankets were lying on the wooden floor, forming a makeshift mattress. They were covered with a sheet and another blanket on top. It wasn't much, but that and the heat coming from the candles inside the lanterns would keep them warm enough. Plus, they could also keep each other warm.

Aphrodite, however, couldn't help wondering where Ares found all these clean linens and pillows. But persisted as she might, he refused to tell. He had a few friends at the bar that were willing to help. He had sent text messages to them all a couple of days ago, when he had a few moments to himself at the Royal Palace. They would take care of everything, even putting the debris back on to secure all doors and windows from any unwanted visitors. Yet, they knew better than to ask who was the mysterious woman that was getting such a nice treatment. Ares would never tell.

Yet Aphrodite would never know the details. They would take away the magic.

She took the first step. Mesmerized, she approached the "bed" and spent a few seconds looking around, trying to take everything in. She noticed the four large lanterns surrounding it, the big white candles in them remaining unlit. A small match box was left in front of the ones to the left and she knelt, taking it in her hands. Taking out a match, she brushed it forcefully against the side of the box, lighting it up. Then, carefully, she approached the lantern, opened its door, and took out both candles out with one hand, one right after the other. She lit them up, and then blew out the match. The smell of burned wood filled the room but she didn't pay much attention to it. Just in time, Ares took it up from the floor, where Aphrodite had thrown it, and licked his fingers to wipe out the smoke entirely.

They repeated that action three more times. Aphrodite would use a different match each time and Ares would follow her from behind, making sure that they wouldn't end up burning the place down. For real.

When they were done, Aphrodite stood before the makeshift bed. Ares walked up in front of her.

They stared deep into each other's eyes. The same feelings were drawn in them.

Impatience; eagerness; lust.

None of them spoke.

They both knew what was coming. And they were ready for it.

It was now or never.

* * *

He brushes his fingers against my shoulder. It's a gentle gesture, but enough to send shivers down my spine. His hands are cold. Colder than in London.

He's nervous, poor thing.

But so am I.

As soon as he reaches the nape of my neck, I take his hand in mine. I just want to hold it there, as if that could make time stop. He rests his forehead against mine. Once again, I can feel his breath on my face.

He gulps down his nervousness and opens his mouth to speak. I am faster, however. My fingers touch his lips and he takes them in his free hand, holding them tight enough to kiss each single fingertip.

All the while, nothing is heard in the room except for the sound of our breathing and that of a leaking tube somewhere, in another room.

Practically another world.

I free his hand and he uses it to his advantage. Touching my cheek, he proceeds to lean forward, placing various open-mouthed kisses along my neck, and jaw, and chin. I tilt back my head to allow him better access and he takes full advantage of it. He licks and nibbles my smooth skin, growing me all the more eager to proceed.

Once he is done, he looks into my eyes. He's asking for my consent to continue. I simply nod. Then I take a step back, to remove my coat.

It lands on the blankets.

We have reached the point of no return.

I want to trespass that line. A thousand times over.

There's only one way to go from there. And I will follow that path, even if it leads to tears and disaster.

For some strange reason, his touch makes me feel like I'm home.

* * *

Like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly, the hesitant Princess transformed into an experienced seductress.

The metamorphosis didn't scare Ares. On the contrary, it enchanted him all the more.

He knew that he would be burned if he came too close. But he knew that what he had started could not be undone.

Not anymore.

Without a second thought, he allowed her to remove his jacket and shirt. All the while, her eyes never left his. The initial impatience now gave way to sheer determination.

She could use him as her plaything if she so wished.

She could still gain the upper hand. Be on top, just like she liked it. To take the initiative.

His top lying tangled on the dirty floor, only then did she break the long stare. She placed one hand on the small of his back, as if wishing to keep him in place. Then she ran her free hand all over the length of his body, from the torso to the chin. He remained quiet throughout, not even flinching as her hand rested on his chest after the long travel. Just for a few moments.

He didn't feel ashamed. Instead, he was ready. Prepared to endure whatever she had in mind now.

He knew her well.

Unexpectedly, she embraced him. Not quite knowing how to react, he returned the favour. While she was breathing in his perfume, he tried to lift up her blouse. But as soon as she realized it, she let go of him and took another step back.

She wanted to have the absolute control over their game.

Fine by him.

It's about time he took the bow, after all.

* * *

He's as marvelous as I remembered him to be.

His body is decorated with all the bruises and scars he got at the army base. Plus his tattoo, a remnant of his time as a rebellious teenager, on his right arm.

A flaming torch.

It's smaller than he wanted it to be, yet close to the shoulder enough for it to remain hidden at all times, even during the summer. But now, here, there was no need to hide it.

Leaning forward, I kiss it, lick it, and suck it, forming little bruises around it with my tongue and teeth.

I go further up to his shoulder, throat, and collarbone just like that, the same slow way...

He is going to have my own marks on his body too. Hopefully, before they would fade away, they'd be replaced with new ones. And so on, and so forth.

When I am done, I capture his lips in mine. He kisses me hungrily, forcefully, like a man trapped in the desert, drinking clean water for the first time in ages. His hands travel all over me. He wants to rid me of my clothes, but I don't let him.

Not yet.

Back in London, I played the game by his own rules.

Now, it's his turn to learn mine.

He lifts me up and I put my legs around his waist. All the while, we don't break the kiss.

He places me on the blankets, gently, and breaks the kiss. He helps me hastily get rid of my boots, before he unfastens his own shoes. Once he is done, he lands back on top of me, begging for even more.

It's a favour I'm more than happy to return.

I close my eyes, breathing in his cologne, while his hands eagerly explore my body.

For once, I don't mind the darkness. It keeps me shielded from the truth. Just like that, the world feels awfully small and we are the only two people on it.

It'd be so much easier if we just gave up now, before our desire takes us over.

But neither of us wants to.

We have finally found the peace we were so eagerly searching for all these months; we're in perfect harmony.

It'd be such a pity to destroy it because of doubt.

* * *

Whatever seductive trick it was that she had found this time, it made him weak at the knees.

He could already feel his pants getting tighter. His only hope, his greatest wish, was that she would free him of that terrible burden as soon as possible. But she had made him promise, in her way, that he would not take the initiative; long and hard as it may be, he would have to follow her pace.

She was the leader tonight.

Yet, there was something innocent in the way that she was holding him close, eyes wide shut, her breathing so soft that it could hardly be heard.

He ran his fingers through her hair. She was still wearing that awful red wig. It hadn't moved an inch.

It had been her mask for the night, but she no longer needed that kind of protection.

He knew who she was.

For once, he wanted to see her true self. No masks or other costumes involved. He wished to hold the woman he had longed for for all these months. The memory of their night together in a city that far away had helped him endure the harsh winter months and the long working days.

Now, she was there. In his arms.

He was touching her; kissing her; smelling her.

His body was begging for hers.

He could tell she wanted the same.

Should he try to remove the wig? It would only be fair. She might welcome the unexpected violation of the only rule she had demanded he followed.

But he hardly cared about such things anymore.

They were two bodies tangled above the sheets. They were fighting to claim each other.

It was a battle without winners and losers.

A game of lovers.

Doing what they knew best. Succumbing to their wildest instincts.

* * *

Without a second thought, Ares pulls off my wig and drops to the floor.

Until then, my fingers were touching his hair, trying as much as possible to avoid his gaze.

I do not regret following him up here; I don't mind the cold of the room, the dust, the smell, or the lack of a real bed.

For once, I can feel alive again.

His hands are around me again. Free of the burden that was the red wig, I bring my hands to the bonnet.

Removing it, I drop it to the ground. Right next to the wig.

They're both ruined by our forceful moves, not that I mind much.

I can always buy a new one if I need it.

Ares breaks our kiss and takes a good long look at me. I must look ridiculous, with my hair caught up in all these bobby pins...

Definitely not the most arousing sight, I'm sure.

But he has a different idea.

Grabbing my arms and holding my wrists tight above my head, once again he presses his lips to mine in another forceful, hungry kiss. I let his tongue play with mine as much as it pleases him, even though I can't breathe.

His arms travel from the small of my back to my breasts. He's gently massaging them before proceeding to free my wrists and help me get rid of my sweater.

I help him.

As soon as he is done, I proceed to remove my blouse while he is helping me get my jeans off. All the while, he's placing little kisses all over my left leg.

I flinch.

His beard is rather rough and it tingles me. Yet, it only makes it all the more thrilling.

A moan escapes my lips. I urge him to go on.

* * *

She laid beneath him, writhing and trembling. Either from the cold or from the excitement of it all. Ares wasn't sure.

Neither did he care to find out.

She was only left in her underwear, her gorgeous, statuesque body in front of him.

He took her in. Every inch of her.

He tried not to think of the many men before and after him that had been blessed with the same sight. It would only infuriate him.

His hands were trembling. There was no going back now.

He could see it all over her face. She was biting her bottom lip.

She was ready.

Kneeling, he allowed her to take a hold of his belt. She drew him close. Her fingers found their way in, tickling him just enough to agitate him more. She began to unbuckle it, smiling innocently throughout.

He couldn't wait anymore.

He had already lost the game.

And she would be more than happy to taste the seeds of her victory.

* * *

I like to tease him. It's perhaps the only weakness that he has.

We're both trembling, but no longer from the cold.

It's overwhelming, to be holding him in my arms still. Even better to know that there are no people around, probably overhearing our every single whisper and moan.

My eyes are shut again. I try as much as possible to focus, but he won't let me.

He's larger than life.

His hands are tangled in my hair, freeing it of their bobby pins while he reaches the peak of his ecstasy.

As if that wasn't enough, the closer to his zenith he comes, the harder he pulls at my hair.

That's his way of punishing me for leaving him waiting for so long. Like a silent agreement that I'm his and his alone.

He's grown harder now than in London, perhaps because all of his fears and hesitations have been washed away. Whatever happens, I have to remain in charge. Then I'll switch if I deem it convenient. I'd let him do with me whatever the hell he wants. To let him prove to me that he is truly worthy of his reputation.

* * *

He released inside her and she was more than happy to welcome it.

Once apart, each tried to catch their breath.

It was his turn.

She knew it. Without protestation, she let him work his magic.

All throughout, she didn't react. Still, she did pretty much all the work.

Her light groans and moans sounded like music to his ear, begging him eagerly to go on. Normally, he took his time with women, even the ones he had slept with before. But she excited him so much that he felt he would the little amount of self control he had. Just seeing her there, fully succumbed to his mercy, made him all the hungrier for her. And she just kept on torturing him. Her eyes remained fixed on him, as if she was challenging him to do even better.

But he was already trying his best. He just couldn't focus.

Something about her reassured him that neither could she.

* * *

He's taking too long and I don't know if I can take it anymore. But, knowing him, this is exactly what he wants.

For me to be the slave so that he can be the master.

His tongue knows just the right spots to touch. As if we have been doing this for years. I feel him pinching my thighs and the back of my knees. My eyes remain firmly shut, but I can still feel his gaze taking me in. He's looking for signs perhaps. The scars, bruises, or love marks that the men that followed him might have left behind...

Every time he spots one, he doesn't hesitate to bite me.

It only helps drive me even madder.

He will leave his own marks on me, I'm sure.

If only he would hurry up.

I can feel the wetness return. I don't think I keep it at bay much longer.

* * *

She was no longer in charge; he had made her submit to him.

What a fool she was, to think that she could win him!

He had proven her wrong. She was crying out his name so loudly that he would forget hers; he could see the expression on her face as she threw her head back and see nonexistent colours explode like fireworks before her shut eyes. Like a very strange, magical music suddenly came from another room. The kind no sane person ever listens to, yet it's the most extraordinary one of all.

That was how she had described an orgasm to him when he had asked, years ago.

Eventually, his wish was granted.

She came, screaming his name and taking hold of him to steady herself.

But he wouldn't enter her just yet. The desire to tease her some more was far too great to let it fly by.

Or else he'd come begging for more.

* * *

I plead him to hurry up. He gives in.

Much sooner that he had shown signs that he would submit to the flame.

My body is more than ready for him. He listens to my wishes.

He enters me - but he's slow. He's going to take his time. Painfully so.

Yet, even at his speed, he knows just the right spots to hit. t only makes me all the more eager to take control. But I won't. If he can achieve so much going as slow as he does, I can't even begin to imagine what is going to happen once he gets into his full speed.

Either way, it is going to be a long night."

* * *

Come what may.

That's what she whispered in his ear when she leaned forward, sticking her body to his. She brought her arms around him, her fingers getting tangled in his hair, pushing him close to her neck again while she continued to moan his name in frustration. He rubbed his lips against her shoulder as he sped up. It brought her to the edge.

Eager to take a better hold of her, he brought his hands from the worn-out wooden floor to her back. They were both sweating and trembling in each other's embrace.

Yet neither of them wanted to stop.

* * *

I sink into his embrace, just giving up on teasing him any more. I don't know for how long we stay this way, holding each other close while I kiss his neck, and shoulder and he gains speed. Before I realize it, I am lying on my back again, my fingers getting tangled in his blouse and my wig, eagerly looking for something to hold on to. He's taking his time with me. As if he knows that each stroke of his brings me closer to the verge of madness. I want release, but he won't allow me. He's not ready yet. I can feel it. He wants to torture me some more, but it is a pain I welcome.

I am already on the verge of falling and he pushes me to my limits further. The man I had met in London was nothing compared to him. That one was gentle and kind. Trembling and sometimes being unsure, like a teenage boy knowing love for the first time. He let me be in charge. But now, here, he is the absolute master. I can't fight him or revolt against me. He has me chained to him for good.

All I need to do is follow his lead.

* * *

He needed to come as much as she did. He wanted it far worse than her! But if he wished to postpone her gentle torture for just a little while more, she'd have to wait.

It would only make the taste of victory so much more sweeter.

* * *

When he finally lets me come, I feel as if my screams are loud enough to wake up the whole world. I see all the colours exploding in one great firework, with many others following suit. I no longer feel his weight pinning me down. But I can feel his eyes running all over me, marveling at his creation.

I keep my eyes closed. I don't want this feeling to be lost. The sense of anticipation, of quiet agony.

It makes me all the more eager for more.

I can hear his voice.

It's hoarse. He's panting. He, too, is exhausted.

"Open your eyes, Princess."

Whatever it is that he has in mind, I am up for it. I don't care about the tiredness or the lack of sleep.

I want more.

And I'll get it.

"Not until you finish what you've started."

He lets out a laugh. Then I feel his hands on me again as he leans close to me. I can feel his warm breath on my face. It smells of me.

He tickles my earlobe with his tongue just giggle. But he does not give handouts just like that. Everything comes at a prize.

"Kiss me first."

I don't think twice. This time, I will be in charge.

And I will not show mercy.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Here's the 20th (!) chapter. It's taken me longer to write because it took A LOT of planning and replanning, even when I was half-way through writing it. I don't know when I'll update next but I know that I will introduce a new (not so much) character in flesh and bone (hint, hint). I'm very excited about chapter 21 and I haven't even started writing it yet. But enjoy this one so far, this one's also taking you to a small ride around Athens :) I tried to describe the city as best as I could but I'm still not done. I'll be giving an all-the-fuller picture as this story progresses.  
**

 **This is the longest chapter I've written so far (nearly 22,000 words, believe or not :P) and I could have cut it in half but I figured I'd spare you the trouble now :P I won't make it a long A/N, so if you need me to explain anything, feel free to send me a PM :)**

 **As always, reviews are welcome!**

* * *

 _22 December 2006_

 _10:00 A.M._

 _Exarchia, Central Athens_

I feel a slight cold breeze hitting my shoulder and I slowly regain consciousness. Everything comes back. The smell of dirt, burned candles, old wood, sheets with dried sweat, and a man's strong perfume.

Last night.

I'm awake but I don't open my eyes just yet. I just want this feeling of tranquility to last a few more seconds. I fear that, as soon as I open my eyes, the magic of the night before will be gone and that the return to reality will be harsh. If it was up to me, our date would never end. But, sadly, I can't stop the sun from rising.

I grin as I hear Ares' slight snores behind me. He has one arm around my waist, holding me lovingly and protectively. Careful not to wake him up, I turn to face him. If he opens his eyes now, I'll be the first thing he sees. Until then, I can gaze at him all I want!

He rests his face on his free hand, his elbow bent, and I cannot help noticing the small smile on his face. He's so handsome, I don't believe I deserve him. Or, rather, I do. I've been waiting for years for us both to succumb to our desires and now, here we are. All those wasted years, the failed relationships, the men that came and went... As if they've been preparing me for him. Perhaps he feels the same. We can both safely admit it to ourselves now.

We're lovers. Hard as it is to believe. We have explored each other's bodies, left our own mark on each other's skin, we've said things we would never dare utter on daylight and we enjoyed every damn second of it. As if we were two perfect strangers whose paths just happened to cross... As it should have been on the first place. Next thing I know, we'll be hiding our faces with baseball caps and huge eyeglasses, hop on a ferry, and go to a random Greek island we've picked on the spot for a lovely weekend, just like any ordinary couple.

I really wish we could do it. It'd be just like all those movies or music videos on TV. It'd be nothing short of wonderful!

I don't dare wake him up just yet. I want us both to stay like this for a little while longer. Even if it's a couple of hours. I don't mind the room being cold and dirty. Honestly, it gives me a sense of freedom. I don't have any security details to chase after me, no engagement to attend to, and no one that waits for me when I get home.

It's just Ares and me. Take away titles and certificates and we're just like any other couple. It's not sick or immoral. It's true and honest. It's something deeper than infatuation, but has not yet fully blossomed into love. It's the part no one can name, the moments of discovering the other and listening to your heart. Love comes after you've known the other and realized that you can overlook his faults and shortcomings. When you realize that your life will be so much poorer without him by your side, then you know that you love him.

We may have reached that point, but I don't want to admit it just yet. It's too early.

I run my fingers over his forehead tenderly, wishing that his hair was long enough for me to remove a few stray strands from his eyes. He flinches slightly, but soon enough his snoring continues unabated. His eyes remain closed. Leaning forward, I place a light kiss on his elbow. He pulls me closer to him and I can't help laughing when our bodies meet again. His own grin becomes wider and then, finally, he opens his eyes. He sees the big smile on my lips and my messy hair falling to my face.

"Hi," I whisper.

"Hi," he replies.

We remain silent for a few moments, just staring at each other. I can see it in his eyes, how much he loves my hair falling to my face. Back in London, he had told me it made me look like an angel. Or a Renaissance painting. I turn, laying on my stomach with my elbows supporting me. My shoulders and back are bare, but I don't mind the cold. He runs his hand all the way from my face to my back and then he rests it on my waist again. His hands are warm and so I welcome his touch by hiding my face in the pillow and letting out a muffled moan. Then I stare at him again. The gleam in his eyes gives away his pride and happiness. I can't help teasing him:

"This is the part where we either apologize to each other for the horrible mistake or we congratulate one another for the greatest night of our lives."

He remains silent for a few moments, his eyes never leaving mine, until he finally says: "Which one do you want to do?"

Letting out a laugh, I shake my head and stare at the pillow again. He takes it as a good sign: "I lived up to your expectations then!"

Perhaps I'll tease him some more. Doesn't hurt now, does it?

"You didn't even come close!"

He takes a hold of me and starts to tickle me all over. Before I even realize it, he's on top of me and I have put my legs around him again. Oh, he's such a smooth operator! Yet, he continues to tickle me and my giggles fill the room.

"You're such a horrible actress, do you know that?"

He's referring to the many times I begged him for more, screaming his name so loudly as I reached the verge of ecstasy that I had no other choice but to kiss him as a way to muffle my screams when I came. For one thing, that only encouraged him to go on.

"And you're underestimating yourself!"

I'm exhausted, but at least now I know that the consequences won't be the same. He used protection and I've been back on the pill since I recovered from the abortion. You know what they say, better safe than sorry.

Ares looks at me like he knows what I mean. He laughs and he continues to take advantage of how ticklish I am by running his fingers playfully all over me. He just loves doing that! When we were kids, he'd do it to steal the candy I had been given. As teenagers, he'd tickle the small of my back at official occasions and other public events to embarrass me. And now, we're playing with each other like lovers do.

Finally, after a few moments and after he's made me cry of laughter, he stops. Once more, his eyes meet mine and we stay like that for a while longer. But soon enough he notices a slight detail that can not go unnoticed, try as he might. The few sun rays sneak in from the closed window shields. It's not enough to shed plenty of light into the room so that it's no longer dark, but still it is there. We cannot avoid it if we try. Sadly...

"The sun is up," he says, lying on his back again.

"I don't want to go back," I mutter.

He turns to face me: "You have to, Princess." There comes that nickname again! "Both of us do, actually. There's no running water in here!"

Pretending to be angry, I say: "So you're kicking us both out because you want to shower?"

"Don't you?"

To be frank, we both stink of sweat and fragrance. But he's right. Those could give us away. Still, though. What a lame excuse!

I feel shivers down my spine. I admit, I lied previously. I do feel the cold in the room. Covering myself with the blanket, I sit up on the makeshift bed and look around me. The candles in the lanterns have all melted now creating a white, shapeless mass of wax. Funnily enough, I could see the room clearer with their help than I do on broad daylight.

In the meantime, Ares has already gotten up. His clothes and underwear are scattered all around the room and I take privilege of that to admire his fully naked body despite the darkness of the room. I could spend hours describing every single detail that I find so marvelous about him, but reality has other ideas. Trust it to ruin everything, to sum it up.

But this time, it worries me. Voices come from downstairs. Steps can be heard, climbing up the staircase and the voices only get louder and clearer. Ares and I exchanged worried looks, but soon enough, he realizes who the intruders are.

"Shit!" he mutters under his breath.

However, I'm slower. If I had a cup of coffee, that would've been avoided. But nope. "Wh-what's going on?" I stammer.

But before I finish, Ares raises up a hand, motioning for me to remain quiet. We listen intently at what's going on outside the room. These strangers are telling inside jokes with each other, for they don't make any sense to me. Apparently, Ares doesn't get them either. But he does realize something else:

"They must be policemen," he whispers while putting on his jeans. "They're patrolling this place."

"But... I thought it was private property!"

I said it louder than I intended. Ares brings his pointer finger to his lips, another message to me that I shouldn't make a sound. All that time, he remains by the door. That's funny. I don't remember us closing it in the first place. But I was drunk and intoxicated last night, so it makes sense that I don't understand half the things happening today.

The intruders have certainly heard my voice. Whoops! There's a very loud and persistent knock on the door. Ares is behind it, tangled shirt in hand, but he doesn't dare open it. He doesn't even move, as if they have installed a secret camera and they'll arrest us if we dare try.

Then a deep male voice is heard: "Open the door! We know you're in there!"

With haste mouvements, Ares puts on his shirt, muttering something under his breath. He must be cursing me for saying for having a big and loud mouth, but I can't help it being as hangover as I am! Still, I watch him as he's getting dressed but I don't bother doing the same. Smiling teasingly, I turn my back on the door, making sure that I remain bare from the waist up. I am willing to withstand the cold, if only to teach Ares a lesson in defying me or calling me stupid. Oh, don't worry, I won't get recognized. They may know what my face looks like, but they've never seen my backside. Or, if they have, they won't be able to tell it apart among thousands of others. I don't have any birth marks or tattoos, so I'm covered.

At some point, Ares opens the door. I can imagine the scene. Three policemen standing right in front of him, all looking at him in awe for having recognized him. That must be it, for someone suddenly I can hear the sound of a walkie-talkie and someone trying to contact the police station that's their base. Meanwhile, the same policeman that screamed at us a few seconds ago, now is talking like he's seen a ghost:

"Blimey! Won't you look at that. It's the Prince!"

"Yes," Ares says. "And I am not on my own!"

Boy, are those policemen in deep trouble! Well, I don't blame him. I'm pretty pissed too. I just don't show it. It's too early in the day for me to lose my temper over such a matter. After all, they cannot arrest us, so why bother?

Then I hear the door cracking, meaning that Ares opens it further. I feel the cold breeze hitting my skin and I can't help pushing my shoulders back, making me lose grip of the blanket. Don't ask. Yet, Ares is smart enough to use it to our advantage.

"As you can tell, Mr. Policeman... I've had a long night!"

I can't help grinning at that. For a macho man, he certainly does have his way with words!

"I see," the officer says. I can feel him staring at me as if I'm the most pleasant thing he's seen all morning. Probably week even. "Well, you two love birds had better hurry up. Or else I'm arresting her for trespassing." It worked! I've gone by unnoticed! "She may be your girlfriend, but she doesn't have your protection. I want you gone in five minutes. Or else, I'm informing the Palace on your whereabouts."

The Palace doesn't even care about his whereabouts, which I can't say applies to me as well. Oh boy, I can only imagine the havoc we've caused. The whole country will be looking for us. Well, I only feel sorry for the people worrying about me. But let's face it, Thunder and Peacock did need a good wake-up call in defiance. And they ain't seen nothing yet!

The door closes. I let the sheet I've been holding to cover my front side as much as possible fall and seductively, I lay back on my stomach, all over the makeshift bed. Which is a mess right now, frankly, but that's only a minor detail. Ares stares at me, quite at a loss at why I'm doing that. He must have left his rebellious side out of that door, then. Still, I do look at him with a smug grin on my face. He snickers, crossing his arms in front of him. He knows what I'm playing at!

"Five minutes is plenty of time for one more round." I whisper longingly. "Or two!"

My sweater lies near him. He picks it up from the floor and throws it on the bed, right next to me. Alright, Mister, I get the message... I take it in my hands and start to put it on again boringly. Ares, however, still makes sure to remind me of one slight detail:

"Hurry," he says teasingly. "You don't want to go to jail, do you?"

To make things faster, he wanders all around the room, gathering my clothes and throwing them at me. But I won't follow his orders just yet. I do notice how he never takes his eyes off of me, as if he wants to take his own 'revenge' on me for taking him in while he was getting dressed. Perhaps I should give him a taste of what he paid for, don't you think?

I get dressed as slowly as possible, all the while my eyes never leaving Ares. He keeps staring at his watch, trying his best to avoid me. And to think we have only so much time until I get arrested! Once I'm done, Ares doesn't waste a second. He grabs my arm and we rush out of the room and down the stairs. Before we step into the entrance hall, however, we're reminded of one tiny but very important thing.

These policemen are at the entrance hall and they can see my face. I'm leaving my wig behind. After all it's pretty useless now. I can always buy another one, which had better not make me look like a Russian spy this time. So, I guess I don't have another choice. Hiding behind Ares, I hurriedly put my coat over my head and keep it in place by holding the collar with one hand. With the other, I hold Ares' hand. We run past the policemen, who don't even look at us. They seem busier whispering things between them but they let us go without even looking at us. So, that's what it must feel like for all the other women he's dated then! Little wonder that they're all after him like vultures!

Sorry, girls. He's mine now.

Once we're out of the front gate and on the pavement, we burst out laughing. It's those big, loud guffaws that would make the occasional passer-by think we're mad and the policemen to think that I'm just the treasure hunter, chasing after the prince and I'm doing everything I can to keep him for as long as possible.

If only they knew!

It's a sunny day, the perfect weather for playing the tourist in your home town. The sun is shining bright, so it must be a while before noon. As we run through the narrow streets and head closer to the central square, I can't help noticing how everything looks so much different compared to last night. I can see Exarchia in all its glory now. The colourful graffiti, the sadness of the grey blocks of flats, the anti-government slogans painted on the walls... I can also notice the people. They're all rather poorly dressed, in clothes that have certainly seen better days but which I guess are practical for their daily lives. There are lots of young people walking around, either shopping or just going on about working. Pretty sure that some of them have recognized us, if them stopping on their tracks and standing still, staring at us, is anything to go by. But we keep on running and laughing, until we reach the white Honda Ares has left parked in the main square, right behind a tree.

He takes out the helmets first thing. "That shall make it easier to walk around now," he teases while he's handing me mine.

I put it on immediately, eager for our next adventure. As far as I'm concerned, my date isn't over yet!

Ares has already turned on the engine when I climb up behind him. He makes sure I've worn my helmet before he starts to drive. I use those seconds to ask him for one last, yet very simple, favour:

"Let's go grab some breakfast first! I'm starving!"

"Good idea!" he says. "Hold on tight!"

I put my arms around him once more and off we go.

As for the world and everyone involved in mine, they can be damned for all I care! For once, I feel the most alive I've felt in years.

I won't let that go until I've had enough first. And I'm feeling rather insatiable today!

* * *

The news of Ares and Aphrodite's mysterious disappearance spread like wildfire in the Palaces. Everyone, from the reigning couple to the cooks and the maids, were in a havoc, trying to figure out what happened, where they might have possibly gone, and - most importantly - how to keep it a secret from the media. The press secretaries in the Royal Palace had received clear orders. No announcement should be made on the matter and the secret should not escape the walls of the Royal Palace and the Palace of Tatoi.

If the nation found out that the Crown Princess had gone missing under the oddest of circumstances, the Royal Family would be ridiculed yet again. However, if the word spread out of the country, then Greece's international position was at stake. Its diplomacy would be negatively affected, its national economy would fall apart overnight, and the Royal Family's prestige and safety would be put at a risk.

No. It was a mark Zeus wouldn't overstep.

To say he was disappointed in Aphrodite's four bodyguards would be an understatement. He had hired them to ensure her safety every hour of every day. The one that had accompanied her to the gala had claimed that she had never said a word about going out. His colleague on the same shift had also sworn that he had seen her enter the Royal Suite and she hadn't come out at all.

Then where on earth was she?

Zeus and Hera had been informed shortly before breakfast, at the time when Aphrodite's spying maid would always visit them in the Queen's office in the Private Quarters to update them on everything that happened in the Royal Suite, whether significant or not. That day, she had arrived in a rush and panicked, stammering her and uttering random words instead of forming complete sentences. A few moments later, Ares' valet also entered the room to let them know that the Prince had also left without a trace. He had gone in his room to wake him up, as he always did, only to find that his bed hadn't been slept in, his tuxedo was a mess on the floor, and his mobile phone was on his nightstand. Turned off.

Their Majesties' first reaction was to call Aphrodite on her private mobile phone. But she wouldn't answer it. She must have set it on mute, as a way to avoid them. She had done so plenty of times in the past.

But as soon as the first wave of panic and parental anxiety wore off, Zeus called the Police Lieutenant General (the chief of the Hellenic Royal Police) and the Chief of the Hellenic Royal Armed Forces to request that they sent policemen and soldiers to look out for them. His orders were definite. They had to search for them all over the Athens and beyond. Pebble by pebble if they had to.

Under the premise of practice and border control, the General of the Hellenic Royal Air Force also issued helicopters to fly all over the mainland and to all the islands of the Aegean and the Ionian. All of these men, the King included, kept talking on the phone for updates and coordination. Zeus kept doing the sum in his head over and over again. They must have been gone for almost eight hours. It's impossible that they might have left the country on a motorcycle. Aphrodite didn't have a driver's license, Ares hadn't driven a car in ages, and they couldn't travel by plane, bus, or ferry without their passports or IDs. Unless they had issued fake ones. But that was impossible. Everyone in this god-damned country knew what they looked like!

So, it was impossible that they had gone to the islands or out of Attica. If they were together, that is. Still, Zeus ought to make sure. At the end of the day, despite their difficult relationship, Ares and Aphrodite were his own children.

He loved them more than he loved himself, hard as it was for him to admit it.

Especially Aphrodite. His own flesh and blood. He had to do everything in his power to track her down. Just to make sure she was safe. Nothing more.

That brought back terrible memories to Zeus. July 11, 1989. The day Aphrodite had been kidnapped. She had been spending the summer holidays with her mother and step-father at their home in Corinth. In the early morning hours of that day, she... had vanished. Disappeared. The news had spread faster than light and taken the world by storm. Foreign leaders had been sending messages of condolence and statements of support; people from all over the country and abroad had been writing to the Greek Royal Family to let them know they had been praying for the Crown Princess's safe return to her parents; Zeus' royal relatives in Europe had also been doing their best to help and support him and Dione, even informing the police forces of their own countries to be on the lookout. Then, on June 14th, Zeus had received a special letter. An anonymous man had demanded that he was paid half a billion drachmas in cash at midnight, or else he would murder the Crown Princess. He had even named the location. Marathonas, a small town almost an hour away from Athens. Dione had been inconsolable, Hera and the children had been moved to a safer place, and Zeus had refused to give in to threats. Within a few hours, the chiefs of the Police and the Armed Forces had come up with a plan to arrest the kidnappers and to bring Aphrodite back to safety. As agreed, Zeus and Dione had gone to the meeting place carrying the money in a suitcase. Two trained snipers had been hiding behind the bushes, waiting for the Police chief to give them the signal. They'd kill the kidnappers if they had to. Suddenly, a green Ford had showed up and two men had stepped out, opening the door for Aphrodite. Her hands had been tied with a thick rope and her mouth had been shut with a dirty handkerchief. Other than tired, hungry, and not having bathed for days, she had looked unharmed. But before the two men could step closer to the King and his ex-wife, ten police officers showed up from their hiding places, trying to arrest the kidnappers and to carry the Crown Princess back to safety. But as soon as one of them had brought out a gun and stuck it on Aphrodite's forehead, the Police officer gave the signal. Within seconds, the two kidnappers were lying on the ground and Aphrodite was back in her parents' arms. Over the next few days, she had woken up in the middle of the night, screaming and covered in sweat. She hadn't wanted people to touch her and she had been so terrified of tall men that she had always held on to her father for safety each time she'd pass by the guards of the Royal Palace. Due to Dione's persistence, Zeus allowed a renowned Greek-American child psychologist to help Aphrodite overcome that traumatic experience. They'd meet every two weeks for two years. Zeus had been so impressed by the progress he had seen in Aphrodite (she was coming back to her good old feisty and sassy self) that he had made the doctor a Knight of the Silver Cross, the lowest order in the rank yet the only one he could have given him.

Aphrodite might have left all of that behind by now, but Zeus had certainly not. Neither had Dione and Hera. Hence the tight security around Aphrodite at all times and Zeus' refusal to allow her to get a driver's license. She was reckless; she would get herself in trouble. It was his duty, as her father and sovereign, to make sure that she was kept out of harm's way as much as possible.

Yet, sometimes, Fate had other plans.

The computer experts at the NIS had tried to track Aphrodite down via the signal of her private mobile phone. But soon, they realized that it was in vain.

The Crown Princess had left her mobile phone in the Royal Suite.

Normally, she never left without it. Now, it made the whole mission all the more complicated.

If she had been kidnapped again, they had to act quickly. And the sooner, the better.

* * *

 _11:30 A.M._

 _Environmental Awareness Park "Antonis Tritsis", Illon, northern suburbs of Athens_

I sit on the small wooden bench facing the pond. The ducks are approaching me, floating on the water. They are begging for food. At once, I cut a piece of my sandwich and toss it over to them. Within seconds, chaos ensues. All of them are gathered around it, trying to take a piece of it. They kinda remind me of the media. Give them one tiny piece of you and they come to butcher you.

Rubbing my boots against the sand street, I draw a deep breath and take in the scenery. I have never been to this place before, either. Showing me around seems to have become Ares' new purpose in life, since he can no longer piss me off by punching other people trying to protect me from myself.

Still, this park is so, so wonderful! There are some tall trees opposite me and a small wooden dock, but I guess it's hardly ever used, especially in the wintertime. The sounds of children's laughs and various murmurs work as the soundtrack of this perfect picture.

It must be the hour or the day, but the park is pretty much deserted. There is the occasional elderly couple going for a walk (either on their own or with their grandchildren), or the young parents with their babies, or just friends eating lunch outside before they get back to work.

It's life as usual. No engagements to attend to, speeches to make, or interviews to give. No bodyguards to keep an eye on me at all times or ladies-in-waiting to remind me of all the things I have to accomplish today. No need for me to look impeccable at all times. Just another girl in the crowd...

With the man she loves by her side.

It's odd. I can't remember the last time I had an adventure like that. Or brunch. It's nothing compared to what I'm used to, actually. Just a ham and cheese sandwich and a take-away cappuccino from a cafeteria we've stopped by on our way here. Ares was adamant that we should tread as carefully as possible. We even bought baseball caps at a cheap clothes store to keep our faces hidden! Somehow, amidst all this chaos, I forgot that of course Ares would be carrying money on him. I apologize if that makes me sound like a fool. If you believe the urban legend that we never carry money on us, then what I said is proving it. But I'm afraid that reality is different. We actually do. Just not when we're on official engagements, either at home or abroad. Privately, we do carry cash and have as much right to own a debit or a credit card as much as you do. We are offered freebies too, but I won't take them. Either I pay for the things I want (either to buy or to rent) or I just don't buy them at all.

Thanks to my mother who taught me all those things. Zeus Almighty had other things to worry about.

And, by the way, custom-made couture gowns are paid straight via my trust fund. Lydia knows more about how these things work than I do, she's the one taking care of everything. But if you happen to see me clothes-shopping in Manhattan, Oxford Street, or the Champs Elysées, I use my credit card. But, I cannot carry more than two hundred euros in cash on me, at any time. They say it's for safety. I don't know how those things work, I'm clueless when it comes to economics.

Just for the record though, the last time I went grocery shopping, I was twenty-one and in college. Don't ask me about the price of milk, unless you want it in the value of dollars in 2001. It must have changed a lot since then.

Anyway, enough with the small, boring glimpses of my life. Back on topic.

My absence must have been noticed by now. Lydia has certainly come to the Royal Suite looking for me, but I'm sure that my friendly maid has told her everything. I'm not afraid of Lydia telling all to the Palace. I trust her. She's seen worse from me and she's still here. Someone give this woman a cape and declare her a superhero. But, knowing her, she'll be furious with me although she'd still be the professional, working on a statement that won't raise any eyebrows or questions. Ares has no idea how lucky he is. He can go missing for days and no one will act like the country is about to fall apart. Probably because he's a man. Men are supposed to know how to survive. But women don't. They need a man by their side, or else they'll be eaten alive...

Today's double standards for you!

It's even worse when that particular woman is the Crown Princess. She doesn't simply... go missing. Or get lost. Or is misplaced. Word it in any way you please, it still sounds funny. Any other Crown Princess would be very worried and she'd be informing everyone to let them know she's fine. But not me. For once, I have some much-needed privacy. Even if I have to hide my face, but there's a price to pay for everything in this life.

"This is the quietest we've managed to be so far!" I tell him to break the silence between us. We must have spent the last ten minutes just like that. He gives me a curious look. I further: "Since you came back from Alexandroupoli everything has been so... loud..."

"We won't have it any other way," he says, taking a sip of his coffee in the paper cup. "We're a typical Greek family. We make the least significant thing seem world-changing. That's the only thing gossip is good for!"

"Do you think that we're insignificant?" I ask.

He takes one more sip and then places the cup in the space between us. "We're special. Either way."

I get what he means. He was trying to say that our royal status and us being adoptive siblings make this whole situation so... extraordinary. He can't say such things out loud, of course. You never know who might be lurking nearby.

I look at the ducks again. They have swam to the other end of the pond. That old couple over there must be the one feeding them now and they're all too happy for the free food. Yup. Now i know where the paparazzi get it from...

Turning to look at Ares again, I let out: "I remember the day they brought you home. After they had adopted you." His eyes meet mine. There is a small grin on my lips. "I was hiding behind the curtain in the Entrance Hall and you and our parents stood by the marble staircase. Peacock had started to tell you all about the house and Thunder was resting his hand on your shoulder, proud that he could finally have a son, even an adopted one." He smiles. He remembers! I further: "You looked so... lost. Overwhelmed. You had those big wide eyes and mouth agape, I thought you were the oddest creature I had seen so far!"

"And then you showed up out of the blue and slapped me across the face!"

"It's true," I reply, chuckling. "And everyone was holding me back and telling me to calm down! They thought I was jealous of you. 'There comes this boy to take away my glory!' But it was nothing like that. You were... I don't quite know how to put it."

Ares leans forward, his eyes never leaving mine. I playfully tap my pointer finger to my lips but that seems to be making him rather impatient. "In Greek it would be nice!"

"Well... Let me just say, I was expecting to see a baby in a blanket in Hera's arms. I was told the same old lie! That babies are produced in a factory and delivered at their parents' door by a stork!"

"And I was delivered six years late!" he jokes.

"That's what looked so strange to me. You were huge!" I tease.

We both laugh for a while. Then he rests his hand on my lap. Yet, the more I look at him now, a fully-grown man, I can't help thinking about how different our lives were back there. We were children!

"How many years has it been? Since then?" I ask him.

He does the count in his head. "Twenty-two. You were four and I was six."

"Do you realize that that was the day we met?"

I sound like a hopeless romantic, I know. But I can't help it. It's who I am.

Ares, on the other hand, is different, And not afraid to show it either: "Well, good for you, you have improved the way you introduce yourself to random, innocent strangers a lot since then!"

Once more, I stick out my tongue to tease him. Then, patting my leg, he asks: "Shall we go?"

I nod and get up. He follows my lead. Don't worry, we're not going back just yet. We're going for one last stroll around the park. There is a small Christmas bazaar nearby. I can see the white tents in the distance. But we won't go there. It's better that we avoid crowded place. We might get recognized otherwise. I do know what they sell, though. I had to visit plenty of those in the past on official capacity. They mostly send handmade things (from beanies and scarves to bracelets and 'good luck charms'), books, and candy. They're a fun place to be, but they're certainly more enjoyable without the journalists following you around. People ask to take a picture with me too, but I don't mind it. For one thing, they ask for my consent first.

So, we'll just have to make do with taking in the scenery for now.

He's trying not to take his hand in mine, but I have other ideas. I hold him as tightly as I can, even lacing our fingers together. He realizes it, faces me, and smiles. He's got such a sweet smile! Like a rare flower. You don't see it often, which only makes it more exotic.

Yet, we still look like the odd-ones-out. Hiding our faces behind baseball caps that don't match our clothes at all... I even managed to hide my hair in there, for you never know. Once, in Madrid, a couple recognized me because they spotted my hair in the crowd. Dying them won't help me become invisible either. On the contrary, it always makes such a big impression that people can't stop talking about it. And you'd think the world would have more serious issues to think about...

We've been walking for almost twenty minutes now. We don't speak. Neither of us seems to have anything to say. Plus, silence is our best friend right now. It ensures our privacy and allows us to enjoy the various sounds. The birds chirping, the wind blowing among the bare branches and the leaves of the trees that can withstand the winter unharmed... The voices of other people, the ducks begging for food or attention, dogs barking in the distance and the sound of the waves of the pond...

It's perfect.

But still, the clock does chime midnight for us too. In the form of an abandoned newspaper that Ares happens to find on a nearby bench.

He lets go of me and we both approach it. It has certainly been read and now left there, for whomever would wish to read it next. It has a picture of us dancing in the cover. You can't help but see it.

"N-no, don't take it!" I whisper to Ares, grabbing his sleeve. Just when everything was going so well... But, it's the day after. A time for us to face the consequences. I wish I could only postpone that moment for a little while longer.

Turning to face me, he whispers: "Don't you want to find out what it says?"

I look at the newspaper and then back at him. I shake my head: "No."

He puts his arms around me protectively. I must look scared. But guilt is the price I have to pay for putting my self before my country.

Zeus Almighty won't be happy about it at all. But he won't suspect there is something going on between Ares and me. He's too smart to come up with all the odd case scenarios, much as he's spying on me. I'm out with my brother. For old time's sake. It's definitely not the first time. It certainly won't be the last.

Still, it's midday. If we keep postponing our return, we'll only make it all the worse for us.

"Can we just... go home?" I ask Ares. "Please?"

He's disappointed, I can tell. But he also knows that, sooner or later, we'd have to break the spell. "Come on now," he says. "What's the worst thing that they could do to us?"

"I'm pretty sure we've caused enough havoc and disarray all over the country as it is!" I tell him. "Look... Let's just go back. I don't want to either, but we don't have a choice. It's time to go back to who we are. And if we can't stand it anymore, we can always head back to that bar!"

He scoffs. I continue to tease him: "But, next time, please take me to a place that doesn't smell of dust and mold!"

He chuckles, looks to the ground, and then faces me again: "Alright, Koukla. Now, shall we?"

I grin, then hold his hand again. We start to walk again, me leaning towards him. But soon enough, he puts his arm around my shoulders and I rest my head on his shoulder. Just like that, we head outside the park. There is a big supermarket right next to the park, and that's where most visitors of the park leave their vehicles - Ares included.

As usual, he hands me the helmet but before I put it on, he catches me by surprise: "Thank you!"

Well that's um... a surprise?

"What for?"

There's a small grin on his face. He's glowing! Yet, despite this, his stern demeanour still prevails: "For not standing me up."

I could never!

I scoff. "Anytime," I tease.

Then, patting on his helmet, he says: "Right. Let us go get punished!"

I can't help laughing at that. Thunder won't like it. At all.

But we're fully grown adults now. Zeus Almighty can't control us, no matter how hard he might try.

* * *

 _Small Sitting Room, Private Quarters, Royal Palace_

Amphitrite took a sip of her orange juice. Since Poseidon had told them the news at breakfast a few hours ago, she had been so upset that she preferred to avoid everything that contained caffeine as much as possible. She didn't want to worsen her headache.

She always got migraines when she was upset or nervous. Plus, all that alcohol she had consumed at the gala the night before only made it worse. Poseidon always made fun of how easily she got hangovers. Frankly, she didn't care about it at the moment. Finding Ares and Aphrodite was more important.

It was also the reason they had all come here. She had urged them all to travel to the Royal Palace because that was the place any updates would travel first. "The King is the first one to be informed on anything," she had persisted. "Besides, it would do Hera good if we are all there to support her."

She had been right. Hera had welcomed Athena, Demeter, and Amphitrite very whole-heartedly (Hestia had been left behind at Tatoi to keep an eye on Rhea), although she couldn't play the hostess today. Fine by them. They weren't visiting for entertainment anyway.

It was typical of Greek families to come together in times of hardship and try to figure out a solution or to cheer each other up. Over the years, Amphitrite had witnessed first-hand how the Royal Family were living up to that stereotype. Much as they were criticized for being more European than Greek...

She didn't know why she was thinking of it now. She had to stand by Hera. She was her best friend, after all. They had bonded despite the feud between their intemperate, cheating husbands. Or, rather, because of it. Another true Greek stereotype: the women always kept the family together through thick and thin. One way or another.

That, and Hera's confession during Ares and Aphrodite's tango the night before, revealed why the Queen was so sick with worry. For the past hour, she kept complaining to them how her son and stepdaughter had made sure to leave without a trace.

"Both have passwords on their phones," Hera explained. "Only they know what they are. Aphrodite, too, had turned off her mobile phone before she had vanished. The NIS have them and try to hack them, to see if they can retrieve any information. They're suspecting that Aphrodite might have been kidnapped."

Everyone grew sick with worry upon hearing those words. Demeter, too, could remember the long days and sleepless nights they spent in 1989, during the search for Aphrodite. Amphitrite could recall reading about it in the newspapers and Poseidon telling her what a dreadful time that had been. It was the only subject the Royal Family never talked about, so that Aphrodite wouldn't revive the traumatic experience. The way she saw it, it had happened in the past and that's where it should remain.

Athena, however, was too young to remember the incident in detail. Just the disarray. Still, she couldn't help once again reciting the question in everyone's thoughts:

"How could Aphrodite have escaped if she is so safely kept in the Royal Suite?"

Hera told her everything her stepdaughter's staff had told the King and Queen. Her spying maid informed them that the Crown Princess had not woken up in her bed that night. That was not worrying in itself; Aphrodite might have spent the evening with someone else at their place. She had done it before, after all. Yet, she had always made sure to have her bodyguards accompany her as well. But they were certain that the Crown Princess had neither dismissed them or asked them to accompany her somewhere at the last minute.

"They say they brought her back to the Royal Suite right after she had left the Palace," Hera explained. "But they are still in constant communication with the police and with us. They're also questioning everyone at the hotel in case they saw or heard anything. They will let us know once they have a witness or two with some useful information."

Athena had been listening to her stepmother for so long without saying a word. She hesitated about speaking her mind. Was there any chance that Aphrodite and Ares might have... spent the night together? At a different hotel, perhaps, or even outside of Athens? She had seen the looks they had exchanged during the gala and their dance. Especially while they tangoed. Foolish as they were to keep their infatuation a secret, surely they were smart enough to find somewhere to stay the night! But then she remembered another minor detail.

"Have you questioned both of Aphrodite's maids?" she asked. Everyone turned to look at her. "She does have two maids, does she not?"

"Of course we have!" Hera spat. "She, too, doesn't know a thing. She said that the last time she saw her, she helped her put on her coat before she left for the gala. That's all."

"But what about her gown?" Athena added. "We know Ares' tuxedo was found in his room, so he may have gone out and found a woman to spend the night. If Aphrodite, too, decided to go clubbing at three in the morning, then surely she must have changed into something more... appropriate."

Athena did not quite know how to describe the outfits fit for a nightclub. The last time she had attended those, she had been fifteen years old and had done it because her half-siblings had persisted. It had been torture to her and a total waste of precious time spent reading or sleeping. Hard as she tried to figure out what other people found so fun about them, she couldn't deny that her eldest half-siblings loved that kind of entertainment a little too much.

"We've asked her about that, too," Hera said. "But she says that her gown is also nowhere to be found, as are the accessories she wore with it."

"Still, it doesn't make sense," Amphitrite pointed out. "She arrived at the Royal Palace in a car driven by her chauffeur and accompanied by one of her bodyguards. She was escorted upstairs. How did she suddenly... vanish?"

Hera held Amphitrite's hand. "I don't know," she said in a low voice. "I truly don't!"

Amphitrite was shocked to see tears running down Hera's cheeks. She was truly worried about her son and stepdaughter, much as she'd never admit it. Hera might be coming across as cold and distant in public, yet she was a very sweet woman behind closed doors.

Suddenly, Athena had another idea: "Are you sure that the other maid told you everything she knows?"

"Yes," Hera said. "She was questioned by the Police, in Zeus' presence. She'd have to be a great actress to lie to them without them realizing!"

Without knowing it, Hera solved the mystery. Anna, Aphrodite's friendly maid, had indeed fooled the Police and His Majesty. All those years of working for the Crown Princess had made her a great liar. She had lost count of the times and the people she had told lies to on Her Royal Highness's behalf. More often than not, it was men that called on Aphrodite's mobile phone. Aphrodite would then hand it to her and she'd come up with all sorts of things that would keep men away from her - either that the Crown Princess was sick, out of the country, or too busy. After a couple of times, the guys stopped calling altogether. When not, then Aphrodite took care of things. Anna would never reveal how. It belonged to the list of secrets she had to keep for Aphrodite's sake.

Likewise, it was also easy to hide her golden gown, black pashmina shawl, black high heels, and any other accessories Aphrodite had worn at the gala. Anna had safely secured each and every single one in various hat empty hat boxes her boss kept in her boudoir. She had plenty of those, most of them laying empty and taking up lots of space. For additional security, Anna had covered them with various pieces of clothing that Aphrodite hadn't worn in the longest time. Her colleague, the 'spying maid', as the Crown Princess called her, had been forbidden from entering her bedroom and boudoir, which only made things easier for Anna. After she had secured them, she carefully stored them in her car trunk. If anyone would ask her, she'd tell them that they were hand-me-downs from the Crown Princess herself. It would be a believable lie; everyone who had known Aphrodite personally knew that she demanded from her maids to be well-dressed at all times during their days off (they were wearing a uniform while at work) and she never hesitated to give them some of her old clothes too. Anna, too, had plenty of couture hand-me-downs, which she wore only on special occasions. She looked a bit chubbier than the Crown Princess due to her big head, but in reality, they were actually the same size.

If, however, someone continued to doubt her, she'd tell them that some of these boxes were intended for the Crown Princess's dresser, to come up with ways to recycle them without making them look out of place. Luckily for both women, Anna was the only one Aphrodite trusted enough to have her run such errands.

It was certainly one of the most surreal things she'd have to do for her boss. But she also loved the excitement that came with working for her. Despite all the glamour, secrets, and privileges, life with the Crown Princess was nothing short of unpredictable. The maid was worried about Aphrodite disappearing, of course, and she hoped she'd come back safe and sound. But not even she knew who she went out with at three in the morning. Aphrodite never discussed her personal life with her staff and the reason was easy to understand. She wouldn't want word to escape and to land on the gossip magazines.

But now, she had taken her revenge on the Queen. The news of her disappearance had overshadowed those of Her Majesty's birthday gala. Yet, all that talk with the Prince's absence worried her. Much as she couldn't help it, she had seen how the two interacted while His Majesty had been staying at the Royal Suite.

Could it be?

No, that was impossible.

But, even if it was, she had better not say a word about it. The Crown Princess trusted her. She shouldn't abuse that privilege. Or else, Her Highness wouldn't like it one bit. She had seen how she treated her enemies. She wouldn't like to find herself on the other side of the pond when she could have avoided it.

They could question her all they wished. She'd never betray her mistress.

She respected her too much for that.

* * *

 _12:15 P.M._

 _Cronus and Rhea's Palace, Psychiko, Northern suburbs of Athens_

Cronus leaned back on his armchair, watching the breaking news on the public TV station. The anchorwoman was saying everything he had expected her to:

"Earlier this morning, the Crown Princess and Prince Ares were declared missing by the Greek authorities. The Palace and the government are working closely with the Hellenic Royal Police and the Hellenic Royal Armed Forces. The operation remains strictly confidential, but sources close to the Palace say that His Majesty The King and Prime Minister Karolos Kallinikos fear that the Crown Princess may have been kidnapped as a way to ignite a diplomatic war between Greece and the country she has been taken to. As for the Prince, the same sources declare that he might have been abducted for money. Whether or not the kidnappers belong in the same group is yet to be discovered."

Staring at the screen, Cronus let out a loud and evil laugh. At long last, the nation would know what a terrible father - let alone king - Zeus was. After Cronus had found out the news from his Private Secretary, he had instructed him to inform the public TV station - people always believed the news when it was broadcast there. His PS had told them everything the Palace had shared with him as confidential and classified information. But Cronus didn't care.

A King that lost his heir right under his nose was not a good monarch. A father that lost two of his adult children overnight wasn't a good father. In Zeus' case, it just happened that the monarch and the father were the one and same person.

Hera's absence had already caused a huge downfall in Zeus' popularity. As always, people had suspected him of having yet another affair. The gala banquet for Hera's birthday may have been hosted to heal their reputation, but this unexpected occurrence would turn the tables again.

Cronus was extremely pleased with the unexpected twist in the plot. But soon, his laughter was cut short by a loud and painful cough. Pushing his handkerchief against his mouth, he spit blood again. Yet, despite his doctor's persistence to try different and stronger medicine, Cronus was determined to continue the treatment as he had done for the past three years. No surgery, no chemotherapy, no heroin.

He would not die in a hospital or looking extremely frail and weak, pitied by everyone. He'd die the way kings were supposed to depart - gloriously.

He just wished he could say the same for his youngest son. Or maybe not.

Zeus had brought everything on himself. He had no one to blame for being a failure but himself. But, what could Cronus expect?

He was Rhea's son. He was doomed to fail.

* * *

 _The King's Office, Royal Palace_

Zeus leaned forward on his desk and closed his eyes. Rubbing his forehead, he held the phone tighter, pushing it against his ear. The phone call had to remain confidential, or else he'd put it on speakerphone and wandered around the room, his stress ball in hand. But the people on the other end of the line shared important information; he couldn't risk anyone else listening to them. Not even his own secretaries.

The chief of the Hellenic Royal Police, the chief of the Hellenic Royal Armed Forces, and the Prime Minister all took turns in numbering their options and trying to set out a plan in order to track down the Crown Princess. Since the NIS had located the Crown Princess's mobile phone in the Royal Suite, special agents had joined the soldiers and warplane pilots in searching for the Her Royal Highness all over the country. Yet, the more time went by, the more Zeus worried that perhaps that had not been enough. Perhaps her kidnappers had managed to get her out of Greece after all. Everyone could agree on one thing: her kidnappers could have been dressed as hotel employees - or be working as such to use it as an alibi - and have entered in the Royal Suite via the fire exit. It was the only door that could not be locked, according to the rulebook of the hotel administration.

"We're in constant communication with the armed forces of the Balkan countries, except for that of FYROM," the Army chief said. "I'm afraid that the diplomatic dispute between our country and them will make it harder for them to cooperate. Same with Turkey."

"How about Italy?" the Prime Minister asked.

"Same with Albania. They are carrying out patrols all over the country to find her. They're also following their own plan for the case their presidents disappear."

"So, if she's not found in Italy, Albania, and Bulgaria, she is either in FYROM or Turkey..." the Prime Minister noted.

"Either way, her kidnappers might be doing this as a diplomatic trick," the Police Lieutenant General pointed out. "To put pressure in our government to accept everything they want from us. The people of Skopje to be called Macedonians and for Cyprus to be cut in half. The Southern part remaining an independent state and the Northern part, the one that's illegally occupied, to be a part of Turkey."

"That's what I thought, too," the Prime Minister said. "They entered from the fire escape, kidnapped her when no one was looking, and they manage to sneak her into another country."

Zeus was growing impatient. He wished with all his might that Aphrodite was in still within Greek borders. Yet all those case scenarios were only helping to make him all the more worried. Back in 1989, she had been kidnapped by some people who had disguised themselves as republicans and had tried to become rich and famous overnight. But now, with her being so famous worldwide and after her successful tour Europe-wide, she could be used as a pawn to the game of world diplomacy. The future queen of Greece who was born in Cyprus and was granted the title of Princess de Tyras because she was born on the island, never minding that it bore no real power. She was precious to both countries and both had powerful enemies. Zeus was afraid that everything those men said was sadly true.

If only he hadn't listened to Dione and her stupid persistence that "four bodyguards are more than enough"...! If he had had a tighter security network around Aphrodite, preferably a bodyguard stationed outside the fire exit too, none of this would've happened!

"Any news from Cyprus?" Zeus asked. "The wall on the Green line separating the independent part from the occupied one was torn down two years ago. Could they have sneaked her in there?"

"That's what our Cypriot colleagues are also afraid of, Sir," the Police Lieutenant General said. "The Republic of Cyprus has a strict border control, no ship, boat, airplane, or helicopter can enter without its passengers going through passport control. But if the kidnappers have fled from Greece via helicopter and flown straight to the occupied part of the island, then I'm afraid it will be near impossible to search for her there without causing political turmoil, perhaps even a diplomatic episode between Greece, Cyprus, and Turkey. We wouldn't want to risk causing another war in Cyprus."

The Prime Minister furthered: "I've spoken with the Cypriot President, Sir. He says that they will continue to run patrols and to keep word from spreading in the media. But he also advises us to dread carefully. The fear of another war spreading is the reason he doesn't phone the leader of the so-called 'government' in the occupied areas."

It was time for the Army Chief to speak: "The intelligence agencies in all the countries we've already mentioned and that work closely with us are also going through the archives at the airports. Helicopters are harder to track down than planes, but they're also looking in the case of private jets or hijacking."

"Expand your network of research, then," Zeus ordered. "Call Egypt, Spain, Syria, and every other country that is in the Mediterranean."

"Already done, Sir," the Army chief said. "They're following the same plan, controlling all the flights and sending their helicopters to look for her. But, if I may, I believe we ought to limit our search in Cyprus, Turkey, and the Balkans."

Ζeus couldn't take it anymore: "If she was your own freaking daughter you'd have looked for her all over the darned world!" he shouted. His reaction shocked the other three men. He knew it, but he went on shouting, trying to make them understand just how severe the situation was: "Search for her all over the Balkans, all over the Mediterranean, all over Europe, all over the world even! I don't care how many phone calls you have to make and how many different languages you have to speak! I want to find my daughter and she'd better be safe. If she's not found within twenty-four hours, you'll all be spending your Christmas holidays looking for another job and ridiculed in the press! Including you, Prime Minister!"

With a thud, he put down the receiver. At once he stood up and gulped down the rest of his whiskey. As soon as he set the glass down, he noticed Hera. She was standing by the door, leaving it open. She looked serious and very well put-together, yet the look in her eyes scared Zeus. Either there were updates and she had been informed about them because he was too busy, or she had a terrible gut feeling.

They remained silent for a few moments, just looking at each other and trying to read one another's thoughts from their expressions. Hera doubted she had come at the right time. But then again, he had to find out from her, rather than turn on the TV and stumble upon it. His fury would be calmer that way:

Drawing a deep breath, she said: "They know."

Zeus couldn't understand what she meant: "Who knows?"

"The media. About the kidnapping. Breaking news."

She left immediately. It was better to leave Zeus on his own to react. She had noticed the gleam in his eyes after she had told him. He'd want to break things, scatter everything on his desk on the floor, and make a mess and she didn't want to witness it. That sight scared her more than she dared admit. Yet, she had done her duty.

As she was walking away, she heard the sound of glass as it landed on the wall, shattering into pieces. It was Zeus letting out his anger.

She wasn't happy that the nation knew about the disappearance either. But she, at least, could keep her fury to herself when the occasion called for it.

But for now, she had to do her own contribution in the solving of the mystery. After all, shouting, drinking, and feeling sorry for herself never solved any of her problems.

She had her husband to thank for teaching her that.

* * *

Zeus knew that two things would come out of this. Either his subjects would think it was a prank and ridicule him, or worry and take action for real. In fact, many Athenians had a hard time believing that two perfectly grown adults could go missing overnight, especially in their city and the amount of security they had. Outside Athens, and in the most monarchist areas, the people did worry. Some were even glued to their screens, waiting for updates. To them, Athens was a chaotic city and it was easy for people to get lost in there. Yet, for once, all the Greeks (regardless of the city, town, or village they were living in) had something in common with the Royal Family. They were all worried about the Crown Princess more than they worried about the Prince.

Most of them put it down to the fact that he was a man. Sooner or later, he'd find his way. Besides, he wasn't as important as his adoptive sister was. She was the embodiment of the country's future. What if she had had an accident? What if she had been kidnapped? Some couldn't help playing the devil's advocate, saying that the Crown Princess had gotten herself in trouble again and was traveling either to New York or to Cyprus to hide until the gossip would die out. It was a prospect Zeus had thought of too. Much as he loved her, he couldn't trust his eldest daughter. She had done him the favour of attending the gala with Hephaestus by her side but, knowing her, she must have had other things up her sleeve. Eloping with a perfect stranger that was completely unsuitable for her was on the top of his list.

Still, for most of Zeus' subjects, normal life continued its usual course. People still had jobs to go to and schools to attend. Their festive mood was still going strong, seeing that Christmas were only three days away and that today marked the last day before their holidays. Yet, the television screens in all the offices - public or private - were tuned to the either of the three national public TV channels, in case there is another breaking news sequence updating them on the situation. It was the number one discussion topic, since everyone suddenly cared more about the future queen's disappearance rather than the Queen's birthday gala. It was certainly not the kind of outcome Hera would've hoped. Yet, one way or another, Aphrodite still managed to make headlines, both in Greece and abroad. The Cypriot president issued an statement, as soon as the news had traveled to the island, to let the Greek Royal Family and the citizens know that he and the people of Cyprus hoped for the Crown Princess and the Prince to be found soon, safe and sound. Within a few hours, the news traveled all over Europe and from then on to the U.S. and Australia - two countries famous for their large Greek population. Each single head of state of the countries that found out issued an official statement to be given to the respective Greek ambassador.

The news had taken the world by storm, yet everyone couldn't help questioning the when and how.

It was the perfect mystery, very much like a novel. Two members of the same royal family attend a lavish gala, then somehow manage to escape their entourage and now they are nowhere to be found. Not even a single trace of them.

The only ones that did not live up to the hype were the newspapers. Printed overnight, their main focus was the lavish gala and the King's mysterious stance on the controversial cuts the government wanted to pass. His signature was all he needed. If he refused to sign, he'd bring forth an early general election and political disarray; if he did, the nation would turn against him.

Yet at the time being, Zeus had more serious issues to deal with. The future of the country was more important than a government measure - those could be easily overturned.

But if his children's lives were in danger, he had to know. His relationship with Ares and Aphrodite was difficult at best, but he loved them more than anything.

Aphrodite, especially.

She was a part of him. Every time he looked at her, he saw his younger self in her behaviour and a young Dione in her beauty. It wasn't just that. Aphrodite's mannerisms, her expressions, the softness of her voice, her outspokenness, her lust for life... The older she became, the more she reminded Zeus of Dione. He had loved her so deeply that his feelings for her frightened him, even years after their divorce.

She had been the first woman he had fallen for. Try as he might, he could never change that.

That's why he loved Aphrodite so much. She was their perfect mix, the only good part of their story. Maybe his overprotectiveness of her was selfishness - he knew of other Kings allowed their female heirs more freedom and a less tight security.

Yet, they couldn't understand Aphrodite. She needed to shine. It was his duty to keep her at a safe distance from the sun. Both were scandal-makers, whose personal life had always been a subject of so-called fascination of the press and public. But Zeus could also see the consequences. During his long reign, he had come close to losing everything plenty of times. He was lucky he had Hera by his side, to make the nation trust him again with her public yet quiet stance and support of him.

Aphrodite wasn't so lucky. He knew that the relationship between her and the Queen was difficult at best. Besides, he could protect her image for as long as he was still the reigning King. The minute the Crown would pass down to Aphrodite, she would have to take the blame for everything, whether she actually did it or not. And not just personal, but political too. Her reign wouldn't start smoothly but then again, none ever did. But she'd get used to it soon enough.

If they managed to keep the Monarchy afloat until then, that is.

* * *

 _Ares' bedroom, Private Quarters, Royal Palace_

Hera stepped into the empty room without a second thought. Try as she might, she couldn't stop thinking that Ares might have been with Aphrodite all along. She tried very hard not to consider that the worst had already happened between them, yet the more she sat around doing nothing, the more that thought was coming back to haunt her.

No, self-pitying was never the solution to anything. She had to get back to her old ways and take action. Under normal circumstances, she'd never dare enter her son's room. It was his very own retreat, the place where he could relax and think. Every person needed those; it was where they kept most of their secrets. So, if Ares was as stupid as Hera thought he was, he'd have certainly left a few traces behind. Say a note about the time and the place of his and Aphrodite's rendez-vous or something else that might seem useful to her. Anything.

All she needed was some solid proof of his deviant feelings towards his very own sister. She'd confront him about and talk some sense into him. The sooner she was done with it, the better. Their pictures were already all over the press; it wouldn't be too late until the people would start talking, coming up with all kinds of disgusting and perverted rumours about them. It had happened plenty of times in the past. It was plain whispers, but it was still there. In the gossip magazines abroad, in people's minds, on all the front pages... Like a wild beast lurking in the woods, waiting for the right moment to come out of the darkness and destroy everything in sight.

She hadn't told her sisters-in-law where she had gone. As far as they were concerned, she had to tend to some last-minute paperwork in her office. They had let her be and Amphitrite had even commented that keeping busy would do her some good. Hera wasn't so sure. But, in any case, she had prepared for the worst. As she had done since she had witnessed Ares causing a scene in the gardens a few days ago.

In any case, she had to keep an eye out for any servants that might enter abruptly. It wasn't expected of queens to behave like ordinary mothers by sneaking into their children's bedrooms, so she wouldn't like to be caught red-handed.

Pulling up her sleeves, she knelt by the bed. That was the place where most people kept their worst secrets, the only place where no one would search. Lighting a torch, she run it over the length of the mattress once, then twice. He must have hid something there, say a folder with various pieces of paper or even a notebook. But she found nothing there. Taking another look at the closed door behind her, she stood up. Ares hid nothing under his bed. She should have expected as much. Every single one of their items was safely secured in walk-in closets, chests of drawers, and boudoirs.

Unless...

Hurriedly, Hera walked up to his desk to the other side of the room. She tried to open the two drawers, but both were locked. Their keys removed. She wouldn't even try to open them, she'd waste precious time. Besides, he must be hiding the keys somewhere too. His room was so poorly furnished (just his bed, two armchairs, his punching bag, and his desk with a chair in front of it) that it was almost deemed unsuitable to be turned into a hiding place.

Except for his walk-in closet. That was never locked either.

Walking in, Hera stood still for a second and run her eyes all over the small space. There was the rack for his suits (all perfectly tailored and ironed with the attention to the slightest detail), another one for his casual clothes, his work-out outfits, all of his shoes in a separate rack... There was also a built-in chest of drawers and she approached it immediately. She was opening all six of them, one by one. The top one contained his various watches, the keys to his motorcycles, and his dog tag on a ball chain. Nothing more. Hera closed it and moved on to the second one. Underwear.

Trying to hide her self-disgust at having to do it, she kept tossing them aside, trying to find something. She used to do the same thing years ago, when Eris and Eileithyia were teenagers and they would hide their most private possessions in their underwear drawer. Eris had kept her cigarettes in there - long before she had wanted her parents to find out she had been a smoker - and Eileithyia would sneak in the CDs of all the singers her parents disapproved of.

Suddenly, Hera touched something. It was a seemingly innocent small carton box. She pulled it out at once. Condoms. She opened it only to realize that it must have been recently bought, since it was pretty much filled. But that hardly proved anything. Ares was known to be dating various women, most of them aspiring new models or even actresses, much to Zeus and Hera's disapproval. Yet, as long as he wouldn't marry them, they were willing to turn a blind eye.

She closed that drawer too. The third one contained blouses and the forth one old copies of his favourite magazines about sports cars and martial arts. Hera could imagine that he was hiding a different, more scandalous kind of magazines underneath. It was a sight she wouldn't like to face, so she moved on to the fifth drawer. Scarves, winter hats, and gloves. And in the sixth one, he kept all of his socks.

That was pointless. Perhaps Ares was smarter than she gave him credit for or he had found another, perhaps even better, hiding place. But it wouldn't make sense. He hardly entered all the other rooms of the Palace unless he really had to and he'd spend a lot of time in his bedroom when he was in Athens. So, it was either his bedroom or the Gardens. Still, digging a hole out there was impossible and besides, the gardeners would have noticed that there was something buried in there as well.

She took another look at the clothes racks. Suddenly, it hit her. Zeus used to occupy the same room after Cronus had become King. When the dictators had risen to power in 1967, when Zeus was twelve, they had forced the Royal Family into exile, allowing them to take only their most personal items with them. They had taken with them just a few clothes, some photo albums, and the most precious royal jewelery to keep them safe. Zeus had also carried a small wooden box with him that looked rather too big and heavy for him to manage. When Hera had asked him what it had contained, he had told her about a secret storage under the racks on the left side of the room, in the far corner. She could spot it easily, all she had to do was push back the carpet. It opened like a cabinet. The box he had taken with him years ago was most likely still there. Zeus has put it back where it belonged after the Monarchy had been reinstated and they were allowed back into the country in 1975, only to find the Royal Palace abandoned. But that was a story for another time.

Hera didn't have to think twice. She went there immediately and pushed all of Ares' suits aside. She had to make plenty of space to allow her to move freely. Within seconds, she pushed back the corner of the heavy carpet and she opened the little door. She found the box and took it out. Now all she needed was to open it... Zeus had told her that it used to open with a key, but Poseidon had stolen it from him once after Zeus had refused to tell him what he had been keeping in there. So, Zeus had had to come up with a different mechanism. Remembering his description, Hera turned it upside down and turned its bottom left leg once and then the top right one twice. Something about cords and ribbons and things that would open it like a door without a key.

It worked. There were various pieces from newspapers and magazines in there, some so old that had gotten yellow on the edges already. Hera dug in and took some out. The cover of Vanity Fair from August 2004, showing Aphrodite being photographed in Santorini a few days before the Olympics... Then, clipped on it, was her interview, complete with all of the pictures they had published from that shoot. Then another one, from a newspaper article in 1999, about Aphrodite and her life in New York. The next one showed Aphrodite with a few friends and celebrities partying at Mykonos in the summer of 2003. Then Aphrodite again, in Cyprus in 2001, paparazzi shots of her, some pictures she took during portrait sessions but were never released to the public, pieces from gossip magazines, fashion magazines, each single piece that featured either her name, her picture, or both.

All about Aphrodite.

As if he was a man secretly in love with her for years... Every single item of the box dated from 1995 to 2006 - since Aphrodite had began to blossom into the woman she was today.

Hera threw them all back into the box and brought her hand to her mouth. She was speechless. There was hardly any doubt about it now. Ares and Aphrodite were a pair.

It was all there. That box, the way they had looked at each other while dancing, the orchestra playing a tango which Hera had never asked for, both of them disappearing overnight under mysterious circumstances...

They had gone out together, turning off their phones and leaving them behind on purpose. Hence why it had taken them so long to come back. Perhaps they... Oh dear... They spent the night at a hotel... In the same room...

Aphrodite's abortion. Hera didn't want to think of that possibility, yet she had a very strong gut feeling that the inevitable had happened more than once. Their reaction at Zeus announcing her engagement, the scene Ares had caused, him staying in her hotel room for a whole day, the scar under his eye, what that maid had said about a fight... Back in London, when Aphrodite's bodyguards had confided in Hera that they had lost her for an entire night, only to see a taxi stop right in front of the Savoy and her stepping out of it, still wearing her costume from the night before and with the mask hiding her face... Ares being in Europe with his friends at the same time, something he had mentioned briefly about a trip to London...

Could... could Ares be the father?

Aphrodite hadn't mentioned any names in her diary. Yet she had committed the abortion almost two months later. How far along was she, um... about eight to ten weeks? Hera couldn't remember for sure. But if it was eight weeks, then there was a very slim chance that Ares was the father. She had heard the gossip about the Crown Princess bedding various men during her tour as well, so it was possible that there were more than one possibilities. But if she had committed at ten weeks, then...

Drawing a deep breath, Hera did the count in her head again. And again. She shouldn't have handed those copies back to that stupid bodyguard! Now they were destroyed. Perhaps he could send him back into her room, to take another picture of it. Yes, that would be good. She'd do it right away.

Slowly, she closed the box and put it back in the compartment. After making sure that everything was as she had found them, she left the room. Carefully, she walked to her office.

She had a very important phone call to make.

* * *

 _12:30 P.M._

We are living on the edge, driving on a busy road on broad daylight, our bodies once again so dangerously close, we might end up in another abandoned house soon enough. But next time, I'm showing my face to the policemen, even if that breaks out the scandal to end all scandals.

Once again, we're passing through the areas that I wouldn't be caught dead visiting. Lots of blocks of flats and broken pavements, cars parked on either side of the street and normal life continuing its usual pace. Ares speeds up and I hold on tighter to him, both my arms around his waist, embracing him as tight as I can and resting my head on his back. Since I left the wig, the bonnet, and all of my bobby pins behind, my hair now falls loose on my shoulders in messy curls. My coat, too, is unbuttoned. I can feel the cold December air blowing in my clothes and I just love that feeling! It makes me feel the freest I've felt in years.

I have an idea.

Holding on to Ares' shoulders, I stand up behind him. As soon as I manage to steady myself, I remove my helmet, open my arms wide, and leave a very loud, exciting roar! It's a very long one and I try my best to sound like a tiger. I even shake my head, letting my hair fall on my face as I rest my hands on Ares' shoulders again and look around me with the widest smile on my face. The passengers in the cars nearby are too busy listening to the radio and thinking of their own little troubles to care about me. I miss that! The feeling of getting lost in the crowd!

But trust Ares to ruin the fun. Every. Single. Time.

"You shouldn't be doing that!" he shouts, his voice still muffled because he's still wearing his own helmet. "It's dangerous and you're too precious to the country, you know!"

I let go of him again and fall back on my seat. Once more, I embrace him from behind, but I don't wear my helmet just yet. It rests on my elbow. It can enjoy its stay there for a couple minutes more. Leaning forward, I shout in Ares' ear:

"Frankly, Your Highness, I don't give a damn anymore!"

I mean it. I just want to experience the city while I still can. To see it. Feel it. Smell it.

Athens isn't any different than any other big city I've visited so far - including New York. Each different area smells differently. Some smell of freshly baked bread or coffee; others smell of garbage and abandonment. But still, there is one prevalent odor hanging in the Athenian air.

Diesel.

It's the gas most cars here use. The buses, too. Honestly, if I could name Athens' landmark odor, that'd be it. It's prevalent in the air and manages to mix well with all the other odors surrounding us. That smell of pollution, however, is the only thing that remains prevalent throughout, mixed with the other smells. It must be the air, for Athens actually has the unique ability to mix all those scents in the air, contrary to London, Paris, or Berlin. Or the climate. Winter is not the best month to smell. Yet, Athens manages to overcome that challenge.

We only take a straight road to take us from the Eastern Suburbs to the city centre, but it's more than enough to show you the different faces of this unique city. We pass by busy bakeries and garages, blocks of flats that look enormous in such narrow streets, marble pavements that haven't been repaired in decades, and people living their daily life the best they can. There are a few very thin trees on either side of the road as well (more often than not rooted underneath the pavements) but the amount of oxygen they produce is insufficient to the amount of pollution Athens suffers from, I guess. Still, it is less polluted than Tokyo or New York, although it is far far louder.

Don't you just love Athens for being a loud mess? Be it from the cars with the too loud radios, the machines, the endless honks, even the curse words some drivers exchange with each other. Suddenly, we stop at a red light on the main road. Looking around me, I see various banners of all shapes and sizes, either glued to walls or placed in the middle of the steel electric columns taking over the middle of the main road - on a tall pavement built to accommodate just them and to separate those who drive to the left of the road and the others to the right. For the record, we're driving to the right side of the road. Anyway, most of these posters advertise night clubs, with the pictures and names of the famous singers appearing on them. Athens is proud of its nightlife and so not afraid to show it. The public transport comes at a close second. I've lost of the many taxis I've seen (they can be easily spotted. They're yellow, with a blue line encircling the windows on the front, side, and back, and they have yellow number plates), the buses, or the yellow and purple trolley buses. There's also the metro (that's the underground or subway), the trap, and the electric railways but we haven't passed by these, safe for a few metro stations. And to think I've inaugurated nearly half of those...

Suddenly, the streets get wider, the ugly tall buildings are replaced by renovated Edwardian ones, and any signs of graffiti, broken pavements, and the pretty but messy ugliness Athens is so fond of disappear. As we head closer to the city centre, old Athens meets the new one, with the renovated buildings co-existing peacefully with the modern ones. But don't imagine the extremes of London. Ours don't ruin the harmony of the landscape. As a matter of fact, they rather spice it up.

I must have spent half the route with my face completely uncovered since I'm not wearing any sunglasses either (didn't take them with me in the first place) when suddenly, the road gets frightfully familiar. Ares is kind enough to remind me as well:

"You'd better put your helmet back on," he says, turning slightly so that he can face me. "We're almost there!"

Yes, Sir.

Before I do so, however, and while he's still looking at me, I stink out my tongue playfully. I can't see his lips, but I'm sure he's smiling. I can see the gleam in his eyes through the face shield. Soon thereafter, I can see a majestic white building with small windows and black and golden balconies. The grander Hellenic Parliament can also be seen.

That's it. Cinderella is back from the ball. The golden carriage has turned back into a pumpkin. Still, she has left one of her glass heels behind.

A remnant of the magic gone.

"Stop outside the hotel!" I tell Ares. "I want to enter it like an ordinary guest for once!"

No more fire exits and passing through the kitchens. I pay to stay here, for heaven's sake!

He nods and then turns right, so that he can park right outside the main entrance of the hotel. The white rented Honda doesn't make a good match with the black luxury cars parked right outside the Grande Bretagne, I agree. Day and night, frankly. Or, if you want me to be a true romantic, one night compared to our entire lives. There you have it.

The two hotel guards seem to be thinking there is something odd about that arrangement. They approach one another and murmur something, never taking their eyes off of us. For the record, Ares and I are still wearing our helmets and the face shields cover our faces too. Suddenly, the shorter one of the two approaches us angrily. He may think we are mobs or pranks. If so, he's up for a surprise!

Approaching Ares, he says, very kindly I must say: "Sir, I need to ask you to leave at once. Your motorcycle is blocking the parking space."

Why couldn't the police officers earlier today be as kind and tactful as the security details in five-star hotels? But then again, Exarchia wouldn't be famous for being so anarchist, would they? It'd take away their charm. And uniqueness. For plenty of reasons.

Ares remains put, which infuriates the guard, even though he doesn't show it. I know who he is. I know all the names and faces of the people working here. I'm the longest-staying customer they've ever had, it's a give and take situation right now. So, without thinking twice, I get off the Honda and remove my helmet. The guard has a stunned look on his face, as if he's seeing me up close for the very first time. Or like there has been havoc and I'm the only one that can bring forth peace. Or both. I vote for both.

"Your Highness!"

I don't lose my chill. It's a life saver at situations like these.

"Good morning, Mr. Papadakis!" I say. "I was just enjoying a nice little morning ride with a friend of mine." Once again, I can feel Ares beaming proudly through his helmet. All the while, I keep staring at the guard, who's as tall as me. "Is there a problem?"

The poor man, he's stammering! "N-no, Your Highness. Do come in! We do apologize for the inconvenience!"

As I always say, a title and your face on the front covers can be a real life-saver. If used wisely, of course!

The guard then does a grave mistake. He allows me to follow him. It should be the other way around. What if someone murders me from behind, you idiot? But this so won't be the case. I've survived with my face uncovered for fifteen minutes and mingled with the crowd just fine. Two more minutes won't be the end of me.

Rather, it gives me the chance to tease Ares some more.

After making sure that Mr. Papadakis doesn't look at me even once, I turn to look at Ares. He's still there, the engine of his Honda still on, the face shield pushed up and revealing his gorgeous eyes. Grinning playfully, I wink at him and he winks back. Pleased with myself, I step back inside the hotel. Once I step back into the lavish lobby (built exclusively of white marble and decorated with heavy furniture - I forgot to mention that I imagine), I do realize that the Crown Princess is back. A few guests stop what they're doing to take a glimpse of me. Or even a sneaky picture, those are always part of the game. Then the wide hall is filled with people's whispering and I find myself back to being the centre of attention. Damn, I wish I had my huge sunglasses with me right now! At least it'd give me the illusion of going by unrecognized and make the transition from magic to real-life easier.

Mr. Papadakis refuses to leave me on my own. Since my own security details are nowhere to be found, still stuck outside the Royal Suite as they always are, he takes on the role willingly. He's following the orders, too. He ought to make sure I am back in the Royal Suite safe and sound and the best way to do that, is by not leaving me out of his sight for a moment. Yet, I do manage to look outside the glass double doors of the main entrance of the hotel, looking for Ares. Our eyes meet, just for one second, and then he drives off.

Back to the Royal Palace. Where we both belong.

Nevertheless, nothing can keep me from smiling. Not even the feeling of nostalgia I already feel about Exarchia, Midnight Nemesis, or that abandoned house. We've broken all the rules I could imagine in one night and I couldn't be prouder of us both. I feel like I'm flying on thin air, with a new-found sense of self-confidence and freedom that I never could imagine I'd have. Like the last wall has finally been crashed down and I'm unbeatable. I can truly feel my heart beating inside me and I don't want the adrenaline to wear off.

I don't even care about the people that keep staring at me as I smile like a lunatic. Still, I do need to get some rest. A bath would be nice. I can still smell Ares on me, his perfume mingled perfectly with mine. It might give us away. We wouldn't want that now, would we?

Mr. Papadakis is already standing before the elevator, fixing his policeman's hat. Appearances play a pivotal role in here. I approach him. The elevator arrives and we go upstairs. He keeps me entertained by letting me know he doesn't mind leaving his colleague to the post for a while, as long as I am safe.

Well, thanks very much for the favour...

He must be suspecting something. The elevator smells nice, like jasmine really. Yet, the look in his eyes reveals that he has noticed the odd smell out. He's smart enough to have recognized that that 'friend' of mine is in fact something more. But he hasn't seen Ares' face. So, the secret is still safe.

Once we reach the fifth floor, he remains inside the elevator. I see my bodyguards first thing when the doors open. They look rather... panicked. Out of sorts. Quite at a loss at what to do. I bet that seeing me doesn't make matters any easier either.

They look white as a sheet, like they've seen a ghost! But, as far as I'm still the only sane person left, I don't waste a second:

"Do inform the Palace that I am all right, as you can see."

If it wouldn't look so totally out of place, I'd take my mobile phone from my purse and take a picture of their faces. Wide eyes, mouths agape... Those men are trained and licensed to kill, yet they look at me like I'm the most dangerous and frightening person they've ever stumbled across!

And to think they're getting paid to give off exactly that vibe...

Blanche barks from behind the closed door. That's one of the rare occasions we get to hear her voice and it truly seems to be working its magic. The guards jump up and stammer:

"Y-yes, Your Highness. As you pl-please."

They're alive! They're back to reality! Hooray!

They open the doors too, which is a bonus. At once, Blanche runs up to me and jumps up, landing in my arms and resting her head on my shoulder, panting and whimpering. I pet her all over. She's a heavy dog and she has already shredded all over my clothes, but I don't mind. We haven't seen each other in almost twenty hours. I've missed her!

I let her on the ground, much to her displeasure. She rubs herself against my legs, looking for more hugs and pets. Sorry, buddy. I have another idea. I run into the entrance hall and she chases after me, her tail wagging uncontrollably. I kneel to the ground and she rushes up to me, licking my hands as she goes. But just as my security details are about to close the double doors, I tell them one last thing:

"Oh, and will you please point out that I won't tell them where I've spent the night, no matter how persistent they are!"

The two men exchange weird looks. They must have smelled Ares' fragrance on my clothes too. Oh, well. They've certainly seen worse of me. As soon as they close the doors, I open the door leading straight to the small corridor. My bedroom is at the end of it. My maids are nowhere to be found, for which I'm most grateful. Once I step inside, I let my coat fall to the floor, Blanche climbs on the bed, and I turn on the huge radio at the corner of the room. The remote control is in a drawer somewhere, but still I manage to get the music to blast and fill the room, if not the entire Suite. I don't listen to the radio much, but when they play Ricky Martin's 'Livin' La Vida Loca', you need to stop whatever you're doing and get your groove on.

And so, within seconds, I dance around the room and sing aloud to the song, removing my clothes as I go.

If only Ares could see me now!

But instead of him, my friendly maid finds me. She enters just as the song is about to end and I'm in my underwear. But she doesn't mind. She has a very wide grin on her face and she looks relieved that I'm back where I'm supposed to be. That must explain the look on the guards' faces then. Oh, boy, I can't imagine what havoc must have ensued all over the country then!

Yet everything on the street seemed so... normal...

As soon as the song ends and the radio host begins to speak, I turn to my friendly maid: "Would you be kind enough to draw me a bath and order me a martini?"

"Yes, Miss. And the martini is already waiting for you in the sitting room!"

She's also kind enough to help me into a silk kimono. She knows me just so, so well! And so, I have nothing else to do but wait for her to prepare everything, while I lay on one of the Edwardian sofas, my mint martini and platter of French cheeses in tow.

Isn't life just beautiful?

* * *

 _A few minutes later..._

 _The King's Office, Royal Palace_

Each single member of the Greek Royal Family was gathered in the King's Office, from Hades, Triton, and Rhode to Demeter and Hera. Hestia and Rhea had stayed back at Tatoi. Zeus had gathered them all there, both to keep them away from any TVs or radios, and to tell them the possible case scenarios for Aphrodite and Ares' kidnapping and the plan that the Army and the Police followed. They continued to be in constant communication with their colleagues abroad, yet in their case, no news was terrible news. It was Zeus' duty to prepare his relatives for the worst.

He was the head of the family, after all.

He had also invited Hephaestus, much to everyone's surprise. Soon enough, however, they were stunned at the many questions he'd ask the King:

"What about the Secret Service? D-don't they have any news, can't they do anything? Or... Or what about the NIS? Are they sure that they have done everything they could?"

Demeter couldn't help commenting on what a comedic sight he made, standing in the middle of the room and looking at everyone in the room while asking the questions: "As if we have the answer to every single question and refuse to tell him," she whispered in Amphitrite's ear.

"I rather pity him," her sister-in-law replied. "He acts like he truly loves her."

Demeter was shocked: "No, that's impossible! Him?"

"I said that he loves her, not the other way around."

But their short dialogue was cut short when Hera interfered: "For heaven's sake you two!" she whispered loudly. "Would you mind keeping quiet for a few moments?"

Both women apologized. Indeed, what they did was out of place, but they needed something to take their minds off of the disappearance and to discuss something more cheerful. Besides, they still couldn't understand why Zeus had picked him for Aphrodite's husband. But they could figure it out later. Ares and Aphrodite was all that mattered now.

Suddenly, the phone on Zeus' desk rang. He picked it up, cutting off every single murmur and whisper in the room. Everyone was curious to find out who was on the other line and so they kept staring at Zeus, hoping to figure it out by his words and facial expressions. Within seconds, Zeus went from tense and angry to relaxed. He even let out a long sigh and grinned.

"Thank you," he said. "Now, do everything in your power to find His Royal Highness."

Hanging up, he looked out of the window. A few seconds later, he chuckled. So... it was good news, then? He suddenly looked much younger and as if he had gotten rid of a huge weight on his shoulders. The Crown Princess was safe then?

Zeus gave them the answer soon enough: "Aphrodite is back to the hotel. She's unharmed." At once, everyone began to hug each other tight, happy that the long ordeal was over. Amphitrite, Demeter, and Eileithyia were also tearing up, but those were either tears of joy or a way to get rid of the frustration that had been building up in them all day long.

"So, if she wasn't kidnapped, how did she disappear?" Poseidon asked.

Zeus then revealed the answer to the question everyone kept asking: "Something about going out with a friend of hers. She must have left from the fire escape, so that she wouldn't go noticed. Her phone must have run out of battery, that's why she had left it behind."

"What an absent-minded girl!" Demeter said. "But at least she's safe. That's the most important thing!"

Hera walked up to Zeus, hugging him tight. She, too, was relieved that she had been found, although the mystery concerning Aphrodite's pregnancy still remained. The bodyguard had gone to the Royal Suite, only to tell her that the private diary was nowhere to be found. Hera had been too busy and worried to consider telling the bodyguard that she might have changed its hiding place. If he was indeed as smart as he claimed to be, he'd figure it out by himself.

Zeus brought his arm around Hera's shoulders. He truly looked the most relieved he had looked in years! But the celebrating was cut short by the phone ringing again. With a nod, Zeus gave permission to his Private Secretary to answer it. Two seconds later, however, she handed it to him. For a moment, Zeus became anxious. It must have been for Ares.

"It's His Majesty," the Private Secretary said. "In person."

At once, Zeus took the receiver from her. Before he could say anything, Cronus spoke first: "You had better take a look at the newspapers this morning, if you haven't already. And I mean all of them!"

Zeus hung up immediately. The last thing he wanted was to listen to his father's husky and arrogant voice, as if Cronus still had any right to give orders. Yet, Zeus couldn't help thinking that the newspapers contained some kind of special information that Zeus would have to be made aware of. He hadn't read them that morning due to the news of the disappearance. Hera had done so, however, but she hadn't told him what was written in the headlines.

"I'd like to see today's newspapers," he said, turning to his secretary.

The young woman bowed and rushed out of the office, only to come back a few moments later, carrying a big black leather box. They had been re-ironed for His Majesty to read when he wished to. Grabbing the newspaper on top of the pile, Zeus unfolded it at once. It was a republican one, since he always liked to read those first. A picture of Ares and Aphrodite was printed all over the front page. It showed them during their dance and the lack of distance between them and the way they looked at each other was more than obvious. It didn't surprise Zeus in the slightest, yet the headline bothered him.

Written with golden letters on the very top of the page, right underneath the title section, it read: _A ROYAL ROMANCE?_

Hera kept staring at it too, wide-eyed. Then she turned to look at Zeus, eager for his reaction. God forbid he suspected anything!

Zeus clenched his teeth and held on to the newspaper so tight that he wrinkled the paper. "Stupid nonsense!" he said, tossing it aside.

Hera let out a deep sigh of relief. He didn't suspect a thing! It would make things so much easier for her!

Perhaps she should tell him about Aphrodite's secret abortion a few months ago. With all those men she had dated so far, it was only natural that she would conceive eventually. Or maybe not. He'd only make things more difficult for her and he wouldn't be happy at all that she had interfered in his daughter's personal life. But then again, the life of the Crown Princess was never exclusively her own. From the minute she was born - or even long before that -, she was a courtesy of the nation. The future of the country. She had no secrets. She wasn't allowed to.

Yes, that's what she'd tell Zeus if he protested. She'd tell him about the abortion, but she wouldn't share any of her suspicions about Ares with him. She'd tell him that there was a dangerous man in Aphrodite's life who had better be kept away from her.

He'd have to rush her and Hephaestus' marriage, but Hera didn't mind it anymore. It would happen sooner or later. She had given him her consent. Plus, it'd keep Ares away.

He couldn't be stupid enough to go after Aphrodite forever. Sooner or later, he'd realize for good that she could never be his in the first place!

Seeing her in a wedding gown and standing next to another man might just do the trick.

* * *

 _Small Drawing Room, Palace of Tatoi, Acharnes, East Attica_

Hestia's first thought upon hearing the news of Ares and Aphrodite's disappearance had been her mother's reaction. Rhea loved her grandchildren a lot and it would worsen her already bad spirits. Since they found out, Hestia had tried to keep her mother entertained as much as possible, either by taking long walks with her all over the estate despite the cold, by playing cards with her, even by reading with her. Yet, she couldn't shield the former Queen from the news entirely. Hestia could see the anxiety in Rhea's eyes, even though neither woman said nothing on the matter. It was a quiet agreement between them. They would talk about it all they wanted once it was over for good.

Still, much as Hestia tried to keep her mother away from today's magazines and newspapers, she couldn't keep her away from the television in the Small Drawing Room - Rhea's favourite. With its pastel-coloured tapestry, imposing landscape drawings, and replicas of Edwardian Russian furniture, it was a place that was homely, despite its grandeur. It was the sole room in the entire Palace that was decorated simply for Hera's standards, which Rhea liked. After lunch, she would always sit in front of the television to watch her favourite Greek comedy series. That habit took Hestia by surprise. Last time she had checked, her mother avoided modern technology like the plague. But, she guessed, even their kind weren't immune to the modern amenities in the long run.

Rhea was sitting on the sofa right opposite the television, enjoying a cup of hot tea and laughing at all the funny segments. It was a repetition, since the episode had aired for the first time the night before, but Rhea had missed it due to the gala. At least that private TV channel hadn't fallen victim to the craze that was the afternoon gossip TV shows... As for Hestia, she was sitting on the armchair next to the sofa, reading the newspapers again and avoiding the articles about the gala. It had taken place, everything had run smoothly, now it was a new day. About time they had moved on.

They mentioned nothing on the disappearance. They were printed overnight, and she could tell by the lack of analysis in the gala articles that those were written as soon as the royal photographers had left the room about two hours before the gala had finished. They had to give their pictures to the press agencies, after all. Hestia was certain, however, that the Crown Princess gone missing would make headlines. If they were lucky enough, only on the Greek - and perhaps the Cypriot - press. Would the news escape the borders of those two countries, the consequences would be awfully severe. Hestia was sure of that.

Rhea's glees were filling the room as one funny scene followed another. Comedies were always fun-paced like that, trying to fit in as much as they could in over forty-five minutes. Just like in life, the plot, too, moved a little too fast for people to dare question the plot holes hiding in the details.

Something in the way that Ares and Aphrodite had... vanished... didn't quite make sense. But that was a story for another time. Them being found was a priority.

As if on cue, the comedy was suddenly interrupted by the imposing sound of the news. The words _BREAKING NEWS_ showed up on screen. Then the anchorwoman in a white jacket showed up. Hestia knew that their outfits often contained secret messages, more often than not. That colour was a good sign.

Hastily yet clear enough to be comprehensible, the journalist was saying: "Ladies and gentlemen, we are interrupting the normal flow of our program to inform you on some breaking news. The Crown Princess, declared missing earlier this morning following the gala for Queen Hera's fifty-first birthday, has safely returned to the Royal Palace. Crown Princess Aphrodite is known for her mischievous behaviour and it is believed that her going missing was the result of bad arrangements and misunderstandings among her security details. According to the Crown Princess' official statement, she apologizes, quote, for the inconvenience and anxiety caused to the nation and her family for the inconvenience and she will make everything in her power to make sure that such a misunderstanding is avoided in the future. However, there are no updates on His Highness Prince Ares. Our royal correspondent is already outside the Royal Palace to give us more details-"

Hestia placed the remote control back on the wooden coffee table. At long last, it was over! It wouldn't be long now until Ares, too, was found. She turned to look at Rhea. Her mother maintained her posture, sitting up straight, the cup of tea in her hand, and staring at the turned off screen. Leaning back on her chair, Hestia couldn't help noticing how Rhea's eyes traveled from the screen to the magazines and newspapers scattered around on the coffee table. Her glance frightened Hestia. She had never seen her mother look like that before. She had no idea how to describe it. A mixture of pride, nostalgia, pain, and hope. She doubted that even the Greek language - known for its rich vocabulary - had a word for it.

 _Harmolypi,_ perhaps. The word describing the mixed feelings of sadness and joy. Yes, perhaps that was it. The sweetest kind of melancholy. But what for?

She couldn't help noticing what picture had drawn Rhea's full attention. It was the cover of the magazine at the top of the pile, the one showing Ares and Aphrodite during their surprise tango sequence. Rhea leaned forward and put her half-full cup aside. Running her fingers over the picture for a few long moments, she then pushed it away to reveal a newspaper. Its own cover also showed pictures of the gala, but one photo in particular stood out for Rhea - the one showing Aphrodite and Hephaestus (that so very mysterious friend of hers) in the car together. Aphrodite is tossing aside a piece of fluff from his collar, or at least looks like she's doing just that.

Hestia had seen that picture too. It had reminded her of the story of a young Princess Margaret doing the same at her sister's coronation. Her own 'mysterious man' was Peter Townsend, a dashing RAF officer in service to the British Royal Family at the time. He was older than the Princess by sixteen years, married, and a father of two. Nevertheless, their affair had caused quite the sensation.

Her life had always fascinated Aphrodite. They were both rebellious with a love life to mix their troubled childhoods. She was such a big admirer of hers that her death in 2002 had shocked Aphrodite deeply. So much, in fact, that she had send handwritten letters of condolence to the Princess's close family - from her children to her sister, the Queen. It was the most she could do, since her funeral had been private. Nevertheless, surely she knew that it that single motion had stirred up the rumours of an affair between Margaret and Townsend. It was a love story that had ended abruptly, for Margaret had been forced to choose between her status or the man she loved.

So... Aphrodite and Hephaestus... Could it be?

"It's the age-old curse," Rhea's voice was heard.

Hestia turned to look at her mother. Rhea was leaning forward, her arms crossed and resting on her knees, her eyes still fixed on the two pictures. The former Queen seemed too engrossed in her own thoughts to even turn to look at her daughter. She furthered: "Women like us don't have any right to our own happiness."

Much as she knew that Rhea didn't like to be asked questions, Hestia felt too tempted to ask her what she meant. But try as she might, Rhea would never tell her. She was still bitter with her over what she had said a few days ago about her visiting Cronus. Hestia couldn't help feeling stupid every time she thought about it. She had learned her lesson by now, yet the look in Rhea's eyes made her extremely worried. Eventually, Hestia gave in.

"Mother, something troubles you," she said, careful enough to avoid Rhea leaving the room abruptly again. "Would you mind telling me what it is?"

Flinching, Rhea looked at Hestia for a few moments. Neither spoke. Then Rhea turned to look at the pictures again: "Aphrodite reminds me of myself when I was young."

Hestia couldn't help smiling lovingly at that. She loved it when her mother remembered all the things and moments of her life that made her happy. Those memories were a ray of sunlight amidst the storm of traumas Cronus had imprinted in her. Yet, try as she might, Hestia couldn't see any similarities in the lives of Aphrodite and Rhea, or resemblance in their looks. Aphrodite looked more the Oceanides than the Olympios. Everyone knew that.

Rhea continued unabated. "She's curious about life," she uttered. "he knows that... love is the gravest mistake and the grandest blessing of them all. She's trapped in a jail she never asked to step into. That will be her curse. But she's young! It's not her fault she wants to live while she still can!"

Hestia was left more confused with that statement that she had been before. As far as she was concerned, Aphrodite was in a far better situation than Rhea had been when she was young. This was no longer the nineteen-forties. It was the twenty-first century and Aphrodite was very much a woman - a princess - of her time. She was independent, reckless, supported causes that would be considered too taboo in Rhea's time, and she was not afraid to speak up in the support of others. Hestia was often taken aback by her niece's free spirit and open-mindedness, the two traits that made her so well-loved amongst the younger population. Still. Aphrodite was a celebrity of a princess. Rhea was the old-fashioned, duty-oriented and quiet royal. Their paths hardly ever crossed.

Suddenly, Rhea stood up and excused herself.

"Are you feeling unwell?" Hestia asked, looking at her worryingly.

Rhea didn't reply though. Slowly, she walked to the door. Once she had opened it slightly, she turned to face Hestia: "I am fine," she replied. "Thank you, dear!"

She left, closing the door behind her quietly. As soon as she was left on her own, Hestia walked up to the coffee table and sat on the sofa. She was still wearing her reading glasses, so she did not waste a second. She had to figure out what Rhea's words meant. Same for Aphrodite's gesture and her dance with Ares. If there was any connection between all that and their disappearance, she could find it out and then inform the Palace about it. She couldn't even begin to imagine how sick with worry everyone at the Royal Palace must have been. Her brother, especially. She could remember 1989 too.

She gathered all the gossip magazines in front of her. There weren't too many of them, luckily. Only about ten of them, which would make it fast. She kept a close eye on the door, too. God forbid a servant walked in and saw her reading those ridiculous things! Everyone knew how much she despised them and the journalists writing in them. Cashing in from their family...

Hestia also remembered Demeter's words. She had told her all about Hera's worry and what she had told her and Amphitrite during Ares and Aphrodite's dance. The two sisters were occupying the same room and were both early risers; they had plenty of time to catch up while they were getting ready for breakfast. Shockingly, Demeter had whispered to her sister that Hera was worried there was something going on between Ares and Aphrodite. Although their sister-in-law hadn't said it explicitly, it was clear that that had been what she had meant.

Only one thing was for certain. Aphrodite had messed up again. But this time, she made a huge mistake by going public with it. Hestia had to discover which of the two men had won Aphrodite's heart. Knowing her niece, that was likely where the answer to each of their questions lay.

That stupid girl and her inability to stay out of trouble!

* * *

Ah, yes! Nothing like a really hot and thick bubble bath that smells of Chinese blooming magnolia flowers to help you relax after an awfully long day... Or night! Mint martini in tow, naturally. The half-empty glass is on the coffee table next to the bath tub. It is a special arrangement just for the day. It was already there when I stepped into the room, so I figured I had better live life to its fullest.

Don't worry about my gown, by the way. It's back where it belongs - to the part of my boudoir dedicated to all of my gowns. There's another one for the cocktail dresses and another for all the casual outfits. I don't know where or when I'll recycle my Gucci gown. Probably in a few years, when one of my cousins will get married. One of the maternal ones, preferably. The weddings of the Oceanides family are fancy, yet private compared to those of the Olympios clan. There are no streets closing, live broadcasts on national television, or crowds gathering in the streets. Just a ceremony in church and a lavish reception afterwards. That's all.

No, don't worry! I won't look out of place. Gowns never get out of fashion. And knowing my maternal first cousins, I will mingle just fine with the crowd instead of standing out for a change.

But, back to the here and now. The adjacent door connecting the gym to the bathroom is open and the TV right across from me (and in front of the treadmill that Ares loves so much) is turned on. It's after noon, so it's time for the gossip shows to get their time to shine. I watch them in mute, for lack of better entertainment. Look at that panel of six people, all so colourfully dressed up, interviewing random celebrities and coming up with rumours! My hands have been resting on the edges of the bathtub so far, to allow me to grab my martini without fearing it'll slip and fall. It'd be such a waste if it did!

Normally, I keep my eyes fixed on the TV while I bring it from the coffee table to my lips. But this time, I can't help noticing Ares' marks on my skin. All those scars, bits, and love marks he's left behind. My friendly maid has certainly seen them too. Yet, as far as she's concerned, they could be due to any man!

As if on cue, there's a knock on the door right at that moment. My maids enter in the bathroom via my bedroom and the boudoirs. It's more practical. They get to pick up the clothes I had told them I would like to wear as they go this way. Yet that's just a detail. I place the martini back on the table and hide my arms underwater. Now that I have realized what a fool I am, I had better not shove it to people's faces. They might notice.

And that's how you know I have a secret affair...

I hardly even recognize myself anymore. I would never hide them if Ares was... well... any other man! I would display them proudly instead, especially for my spying maid to see. She has that smug look on her face most of the time and it's not because she's the big gossip that conveniences Zeus Almighty. She really needs to take on a lover. Male or female, whichever she prefers. I don't judge. I have too many gay and lesbian friends for that.

Back on topic. Once I'm safely tucked into the foam, I allow my friendly maid in. She opens the door slightly, to ask me if I'm alright.

"Yes, everything is perfect. Thank you!"

I don't face her, but she doesn't mind. That's the usual roll. As is her announcing the things I'll have to do once I'm out of here.

"I have already ordered room service for your lunch and your Private Secretary has left a message. Your meeting tomorrow will last for a while longer, there are a few things she'd like to discuss with you in private."Your lunch is served

I'm busted. Lydia does have the authority which I've given her (unofficially) to declare how long our meetings will last depending on what she has to tell me. And she uses it to her advantage. When she says she wants us to talk in private, it means I'm in a huge trouble.

Oh, boy.

I do hope Lydia isn't watching the same gossip show that I'm watching just now. Or else our audience tomorrow will never, ever end.

They're showing the pictures released from the Palace early this morning, about what happened inside the ballroom, during the gala. There's Thunder and Peacock, my uncles, Amphitrite, Aunt Demeter, Grandmother, Aunt Hestia, our extended family, the other guests... There's a picture showing me and the three actresses laughing together, the prime ministerial couple... Rows and rows of pictures in that reportage, along with past footage of public appearances we had done in the past. It's mostly us arriving in places, posing for pictures, or arriving at other royal galas which took place abroad. Then the video is over and the screen is split in three parts: the titles underneath, one smaller 'window' with the panelists and a bigger 'window' that replays the reportage inaudibly, over and over while the discussion lasts. From the way these 'journalists' hold their bodies, the discussion seems lively and they will go on talking about it for a long time still. Then, suddenly, I notice the picture of me and Hephaestus. We're in our car, right before we passed through the gate. It's me looking down at Hephaestus' collar, removing a piece of fluff from his coat. Then, almost immediately, they show pictures of Ares and I dancing. It's not just one picture. Instead, they must have shown about six or seven of them, and they still go on. It's like every second of our tango has been captured there. I can see those looks we exchange... I look at him like hearts are about to fall from my eyes, truly like a schoolgirl happy to dance with her crush at the prom... There's also the way our bodies touch each other...

Great. My secret has been revealed. now the looks we exchange and the lack of distance between us is there for the world to see. Anyone who has fallen in love at least once in their lifetimes can see that the closeness between Ares and me isn't befitting of siblings. But then again... Every single picture of us, either on engagements or other occasions, show us like this... No one has suspected a thing all these years. It's impossible that they might do so now!

I suppose the safest way to keep our affair a secret is for me to marry Hephaestus, then. It's what Zeus Almighty wants, and I've learned to obey to his wishes. He's the King, after all. I can't defy him, much as I make his life hell until I do accept to follow his orders. But then, it wouldn't be fair for Hephaestus, to be used in such a cruel way. According to Father, however, he's the best possible match for me, because he can give me the support I need. He'd make a great asset for the husband of the future queen for he will never overshadow me.

Maybe I'm thinking too much about this. After all, aunt Demeter said that arranged marriages aren't that bad. In the end, she and the King of Denmark did find a way to make their relationship work. It's not the best arrangement, but they do look happy together.

Still, she's not me. She may have been my age once, but we're still two different people. She's not adventurous as I am, she's more like the home cat. She doesn't like change and, if it was up to her, she'd be born and die in the same house, spending her days tending to her vegetable garden and never ever leaving the small town she'd call home. I'm a girl of the world. I want to travel, see things, gather new experiences, live life to the fullest...! I couldn't possibly trap myself in a marriage with a man that can barely walk!

I'm sorry. This sounds cruel towards Hephaestus. I don't mean it that way. What I want to say is that I need a man that thrills me. Someone who excites me, with whom I will never be bored. Ares has given me this, as have various other men in the past. But, knowing me, I will grow bored of him after some time. Then... what? If I break up with him, I'll no longer be able to treat him as my brother. But I'll have no other choice because, either way, we will have to keep our liaison a secret, even when we're old, grey, and haven't been together or seen each other in decades.

It's so, so complicated! Wasn't it for that damn adoption certificate, it'd have all been so much simpler!

But not all is lost yet. There's only one way to figure it all out.

Mother.

I will tell her everything. About Ares and me. She needs to know. I do trust her. Unless I tell her that I am in love with a man but I don't mention his name.

 _In love..._

Maybe I _have_ fallen for him. Perhaps it's too early to say, but it could be true. I just didn't admit to myself for so long, or kept trying to push that thought aside. But we've slept together, twice. There may be something more than plain infatuation between us.

That's not the point, though. I need to tell Mother about my torn feelings. I'll write this very long email to her, so that no one can interrupt her and she has plenty of time to think. It may prompt her to leave New York and come all the way to Athens. Frankly, I do need her advice and guidance now more than ever. But on the other hand, she and Tantalus had been planning their Christmas holidays in London in advance. The whole family will be there, along with all of my cousins and their children. It makes sense for just me to miss the party. The country does take precedence, after all.

I won't tell her that I need her to come. I'll leave it up to her to decide. I'll be pleased with an equally long email full of advice too. Yes, that's the best course of action. Tell her everything and leave it up to her to decide what she should do next.

Something tells me this won't end well.

Not at all.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: OK so I figured I have a very bad habit. I talk A LOT. I was going to explain a few things but my brain's officially gone. I'll just tell you that Erotokritos is an actual poem and you can listen to its many different song versions on YouTube (there's one of Ross Daly which I strongly recommend but it's only music), Despotiko is an actual island in the Cyclades, it has lots of antiquities, and it is also uninhabited. I'm basing the Oceanides family off on the Niarchos/Onassis families, but without the tragedies that plagued those two families and both of these tycoons owned islands in Greece. Plus, I am taking tons of artistic liberties with Dione's family but still I'll try to keep them as close to their mythological counterparts as I can. Plus I've arranged their family tree according to what is written in a website called . So, in short, if there are any inaccuracies, do let me know :) And Dione's security code name is a reference to the late Princess Diana - her own security code name was 'Purple Five Two'.  
**

 **Also, uni has started and that means I will not be able to update as often as I used to. The chapters might get smaller but I have no idea how long it will take for me to finish this. I might end up making it a trilogy and have each "book" of it consisting of 50-60 chapters each :P**

 **As always, reviews are welcome (and I'm sorry for my endless blabbering :D).**

* * *

 _23 December 2006_

 _Oceanus and Tethys' home, Kensington, London_

The place was a mess, but it was to be expected. Before the staff had managed to tidy up their employers' things, they had to pack up again so that their mistress, Dione Oceanides, would be able to travel back to Greece. Everyone knew that her hurried decision to fly to Athens first thing in the morning had to do with the Crown Princess, yet no one had managed to find out the reason. Not even the rest of the Oceanides family.

All that they knew was that Her Royal Highness had sent a very long email to her mother. Context unknown. But if Dione's behaviour was anything to go by, then something very serious must have happened.

Worried as they were about Aphrodite, the Oceanides family couldn't hide their disappointment. Dione, Tantalus, and their children - namely Pelops, Broteas, and Niobe - had arrived from New York only the night before. They had been the last to join the rest of the family. Therefore, their arrival signaled the beginning of the celebrations. Christmas was always a family affair for them. It was already bad enough that Aphrodite could never join them because she had engagements to attend to in Greece. Dione made them worried that something terrible had happened to her. Yet, she had been adamant.

As had been Tantalus. Since Dione had told him about her decision before they went to sleep the night before, he hadn't stopped expressing his disappointment every chance he got. Not even shaving while being jet-lagged could stop him:

"She's twenty-six years old! Not a freaking child anymore!"

His deep and hoarse voice echoed from the en-suite bathroom to the main bedroom. There, Dione had been busier giving instructions to her maids about which clothes, shoes, and accessories she'd like to take with her and which outfits needed extra care. She had already taken two aspirins to soothe her headache, but the best treatment for it would be if Tantalus would stop yapping at last.

She hadn't told him that she hadn't slept at all the night before. The sedative she had taken hadn't helped at all either. Yet she had remained in place, not wishing to disrupt Tantalus' peaceful slumber. Eventually, she had given up and had gone for a small walk in the balcony instead. She hadn't cared about the piercing cold. On the contrary, it had helped her think about the email again. It had upset her more than she would dare admit. She had had a bad gut feeling for days and now it had been confirmed.

Aphrodite... having an affair with Ares!

The more Dione thought about it, the more eager she was to leave. She had to see her, talk to her, help her in any way she had to... Her daughter was in trouble and only she could give her the helping hand. But she couldn't do so with her husband yapping as much as he did:

"I'm not having this conversation again!" she shouted, throwing a dress in her suitcase. She didn't have to, yet she helped the maids just to keep busy. It always helped calm her down somehow.

Tantalus was having none of that nonsense, however. He stepped into the lavish bedroom, not caring about looking ridiculous in his underwear and with shaving foam all over his cheeks and chin. It was definitely a sight the staffers would gossip about later.

"Yes, you will!" he shouted, holding up the razor. Dione stopped what she was doing and let out a long sigh. Tantalus continued unabated: "We have told your parents we'd be spending the holidays with them! For heaven's sakes, wife, your mother's in her mid-eighties and your father's in his nineties! You keep worrying every single year that this Christmas might be their last yet now you just up and leave as if your perfectly healthy and grown-up daughter is suddenly suffering from a deadly disease!"

"I said, I don't want to talk about it anymore!"

Tantalus had enough. Wiping the foam off his face with the towel on his shoulders, he started to follow Dione around the room. The servants surely found the sight amusing. Hardly ever did they get to witness the pair disputing. Yet, every time they did, Dione either got too stubborn to reply or she came up with some great one-liners to make her husband shut up. They always sided with her. It was odd. Everyone despised Tantalus, yet they all loved and respected Dione. Not only was she the very definition of a lady, but she was also the mother of the most beautiful and famous princess in the world and an enigma to almost everyone, except for her friends, family, and people working for her.

"It's so damn convenient for you to leave the conversation when it suits you!" Tantalus shouted while he was stepping back into the en- suite. While he was doing that, Dione had kindly and calmly asked the three maids to leave them alone. They were more than willing to do so. They were just so eager to share the news with their colleagues!

Once Dione and Tantalus were left on their own, Dione sat down on the bed and crossed her arms and legs. She could hear their giggles from behind the closed door. She knew perfectly well what that meant.

"I hope you're proud!" she said, staring at her husband. "Now everybody will be talking about your temper again!"

"I don't give a damn about them!"

Tantalus stepped back into the bedroom. He was freshly shaved and smelled of aftershave. Plus, he had also managed to cut himself. Again. No matter how many times Dione had kept reminding him that he should not shave while they were arguing, he never listened to her. She had realized a long time ago that it was no use. They were both stubborn people.

He opened the closet and took out a white shirt and black trousers. While she was watching him getting dressed, Dione couldn't help thinking what a nice little metaphor his choice of colours was about their marriage. She was white, he was black. She was always the first to stop the fights and he always caused them. They disagreed on many things, like every married couple. The children's upbringing, the family's finances, a wrong choice or decision either one of them had made... and about whether or not she was too attached to Aphrodite. She replied calmly: "Good. Because I don't care about what you think, either."

Tantalus was taken aback. He stared at his wife. Keeping her posture, she explained to him calmly, yet close to a yelling: "She is my daughter! And she needs me! She wouldn't have sent me such a long email at three in the morning if she wasn't in trouble!"

"If it's her fault, she should get herself out of the dirt! She doesn't need you to save her! You have other kids to worry about too!"

"Those are here with me! She's not."

Ah! Once again she was playing the same card! Aphrodite was away so she had to worry about her far more than she worried about Pelops, Broteas, or Niobe!

"Listen to me!" Tantalus said, raising his pointer finger at her in frustration: "If this is an excuse...!"

Dione knew that his threats didn't mean anything. Confidently, she stood up and made her way to the side of the bed, where her suitcase - one of the three she'd take with her - was resting. She had no idea for how long she would be staying, so she had better be prepared for everything. Zipping it, she said: "Threaten me all you want, I've made up my mind!"

"Aha!" Tantalus brought his hands to his hips and looked at the ground for a few moments. When he looked at Dione again, she had just took the suitcase off the bed and was currently placing it by the door, along with the two others. "And you are going to do what exactly? Help her? She's a fully grown adult. She's the future queen! What if there's a political crisis or a scandal and she has to take responsibility? Will you be there to hold her hand too? Such a ridiculous sight!"

 _Dione pretended not to listen. She checked the closets and her dressing table once more to make sure she had not forgotten anything. She would not take a maid with her. She could manage perfectly fine by herself. Besides, she had booked a suite at Aphrodite's hotel. She would get some help from her staff if she so desperately needed it, although she very much doubted it._

Still, she had to give Tantalus the answer he was so desperately looking for: "It's Zeus. Are you happy now?"

All of a sudden, Tantalus' behaviour changed. He was no longer angry but concerned. It was no longer Aphrodite's fault then. Zeus had messed up and Dione had to go change his mind or whatever she had to do this time.

"What's he done now?" he asked.

"I can't tell you."

"I'm your husband!"

"It's her secret! It's a state secret... In any case, the fewer people know about this, the better."

Tantalus approached her. She touched her forehead. The migraine was stronger now and she was wishing that the flight and the stress that came with traveling wouldn't take their toll on her. It didn't matter that she was traveling by her and Tantalus' private jet; in fact, the only difference it had to commercial airplanes was that it was more comfortable and could get her in less than three hours instead of four. But when she noticed Tantalus in front of her, she raised her head to face him.

"Is it that serious then?" he asked gently.

She nodded. "You need to give her more credit. She has done perfectly well for herself. Other women in her situation would have gone mad! She could do perfectly fine without me. But I have to go. Maybe I'll do more harm than good. But I will never know for sure unless I go there."

He hugged her and rocked her gently. She welcomed that gesture. Then he said to her his sole real complaint throughout their marriage: "I just wish you would divorce that family already!"

He couldn't break the bond between Dione and Aphrodite, but he didn't mind that as much as his anger made people believe he did. However, he had grown tired of people treating his wife as if she was still a member of the Greek Royal Family, when it was obvious from her attitude for the past twenty-five years that she had wanted nothing to do with them and, wasn't it for Aphrodite and her fame, Dione would've been largely forgotten. As if she never existed. But she couldn't help it that she had been so famous during her short tenure as the Crown Princess, or that her daughter happened to be Zeus' eldest legitimate child and the first female future queen of Greece.

Dione smiled. Breaking the embrace, she explained to him once more: "She's my daughter. Besides, I had told you when you had proposed that I would never leave her. You knew all along that my life is... extraordinary. Whining about it now won't change things. It's been twenty years!"

Tantalus snickered. He just loved that woman! At forty-nine, she was as radiant as she had been the first day he had seen her at her and Zeus' engagement party. He had spent two years wishing silently that she would notice him in the crowd, yet he hadn't dared do anything out of respect for his best friend, the Crown Prince. He couldn't just steal his fiancée. But, Zeus had given him the solution. Dione had come to his house one night unexpectedly, with baby Aphrodite in her arms. She had been looking for a shoulder to cry on. He had made a makeshift cradle for Aphrodite, offered Dione the strongest drink he had, and he had listened to Dione as she had been telling him that her husband and her best friend had been having a secret affair. A year later, Dione and Zeus had been waiting for their divorce to be finalized, her former best friend had been on her way to become the new Crown Princess and future Queen, and everyone had been trying really hard to conceal the scandal that had broken out and which might have even caused Zeus the throne. Dione had also been disputing with the Palace about her and Zeus having joint custody of Aphrodite. King Cronus had been adamant that his granddaughter would have been raised royal and have almost nothing to do with the Oceanides family, except perhaps to invite them to royal events because they were family. Yet, Zeus' opinion prevailed. He had listened to Dione's wishes and he had wanted to come across as modern. Thus he had convinced the Palace and the Parliament to make an exception to the law. After all, under Greek law, Dione ought to have been granted the custody in the first place, since that's what it would declare. But considering that Dione wasn't a royal by birth and that Aphrodite was, Aphrodite would have to stay with her father, which would be in favour of royal tradition, yet against the law. So, the only solution would be for Aphrodite to spend half her time with her mother and the other half with her father. In the long run, and judging by Aphrodite's behaviour, that decision backfired in favour of her maternal relatives.

Still, as Dione would kindly remind him, once a royal, always a royal. Either by birth or by marriage. It didn't matter.

"Go, then," he said. "Make new secrets and promises that the father and the stepfather should never find out about!"

Dione chuckled. "I'll be back as soon as possible, I promise. If not, we'll meet again in New York next year!"

He looked into her eyes again and held her close. "Very funny!" he said sarcastically.

They remained like this, quiet, for a few seconds until the door opened suddenly and the sound of little feet filled the room. Dione suddenly felt someone hug her legs and she looked down, only to find Niobe in her pajamas, looking at her eagerly and with a big smile on her face:

"Will you give Froufrou my Christmas card?"

Dione scoffed. She would never get used to that nickname... "It's Aphrodite, dear. And why aren't you in bed?"

Niobe let go of her mother, took a few steps back, and raised both hands in the air: "The sun is up!"

Dione knelt in front of her. No matter how many times they had done that journey, Niobe still couldn't quite grasp the meaning of jet lag. Normally, other children were so tired that they fell asleep the minute their feet touch the ground. But Niobe had never been one with the crowd...

"Darling," her mother explained, "you've been awake for twenty-two hours! That's almost an entire day and night!"

"Grandma says that if I sleep now, I will be like a ghost tonight, just walking aimlessly around the house!"

Yes, that did sound like Tethys. No matter how many years she had been living in England, she still would translate Greek expressions into English and she wouldn't let go of her strong Greek accent at all. 'Walking around like a ghost' was the Greek way of saying 'You won't be able to fall asleep'.

"Your grandma always travels by boat, she chooses the easy way out. You should not listen to her. You won't be like a ghost, but you will be sleeping for two days and when you wake up it will be Christmas!"

Niobe dropped the smile: "But I love Christmas Eve!" she complained.

Her parents knew why. Every year, the Oceanides family would play treasure hunt. One of the men would dress up as Santa Claus and the children would have to find him. They always had to work as a team, though. The adults would all be stationed in different rooms of the house, each one with a new hint and trace. If the children managed to find him before midnight, they would get to eat the chocolate pie and traditional Greek Christmas sweets that Tethys always baked with her daughters and granddaughters. If they did not, Tethys and Oceanus would ask them a random question about their adult relatives, such as 'Who was afraid of straws when they were little'. If they found the correct answer, then "Santa" would show up and hand them their presents. If not, they'd find them under the tree on Christmas morning. There no cookies and milk involved, for they did not celebrate the British or the American way. Everyone had wanted the children to grow up as Greek as possible, so they would stick to the Greek traditions as much as they could. Currently, the adults outranked the children, but it only made the game all the more complicated and fun.

"Don't worry about missing the game, dear!" Dione added. "They'll wake you up just in time for it, I'm sure. But! If you sleep now, you may wake up just in time for the game and you might find Santa this year!"

Niobe scoffed. She was too old for this... "Fiiiiiiiiiiine!"

She turned to leave, only to be stopped by Tantalus:

"Haven't you forgotten something, young lady?"

Suddenly, she realized that she was holding the Christmas card she had made for Aphrodite in her hands. She turned, handed it to Dione, and hugged her: "Have a nice flight!" she whispered in her ear.

"Thank you, dear!" Dione replied, kissing her hair. "OK, nap time now. Off you go!"

Niobe couldn't hide her disdain at having to do as her mother had instructed her. But, as long as she wasn't sixteen yet, she'd have to do as her parents instructed. Or at least that was what Tantalus kept saying.

Once Niobe had left, Dione put the card carefully inside her purse and checked her mobile phone. The driver had texted her to let her know that both the car and the jet were ready when she was. Carefully, she put on her royal blue Dior dress coat with the matching belt and the black Gucci leatherette gloves. Securing her purse on her shoulder, she approached her husband, kissed him chastely on the lips, and then said: "Time for me to go on my mission. Wish me luck"!

"Call me when you get there," Tantalus said tenderly.

She nodded and touched his face for a moment. Then she opened the door and left.

Her relatives would all be there to bid her goodbye and to wish her a pleasant journey. But, from the way Aphrodite had described it, it would be the exact opposite of that.

Zeus had messed up. Again. And she would have to change his mind once more.

She wished she could divorce that family, too. But, as long as her daughter was part of it, she was still royalty.

Like it or not.

* * *

 _A few hours later..._

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

I'm the biggest idiot on the planet. Thank you for your consideration. I'm not talking to Lydia. She has known me for so long that nothing I do or say surprises her anymore.

Guess who forgot to do her homework? That's right. Not only have I not gone through my agenda for Christmas, she also walked into my study today to find me leaning back on the chair, legs on the desk, just staring at what to others looked like the ceiling apparently, with a fresh white rose in my nose which I took from the vase in the sitting room (they change the flowers every two to three days in here), and just humming little stupid songs to myself.

Sticking to the festive spirit, though, I was humming _I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas_. It's ridiculous, I know. Other women sing love songs when they're in love and I sing about hippos and crocodiles and "tinkly-tinker toys"... Unless you read it as a metaphor. In this case, the adorable hippo that I can "play with and enjoy" is Ares and all the other animals mentioned in there which I don't like one bit are my exes. You're welcome.

But before you send me to the madhouse, I do have an explanation for this. Anna put on a CD with Christmas songs I had bought from the US ages ago (this song isn't known in Greece at all) and so that was what I had woken up to. And then Blanche's tail landed on my face. A great morning right there.

It's not enough to convince Lydia, though. At first she was surprised, then she looked at me with that wry smile on her face I am her teenage daughter and tell her that I finally found myself a boyfriend, but soon enough she realized just how incurable my own absentmindedness is so now she just tries to put up with me the best way she can.

I begged her for five more minutes of (day)dreaming, though. And she, ever the gifted negotiator, gave a very diplomatic answer: "No."

Hold on a minute... Anna... I remembered what my friendly maid is called. Geez... That's what being in love does to me. I can actually recall the small things that I just... somehow... didn't care about. I feel rather bad now. She's been working for me for ages, accompanied me to over twenty foreign trips, knows what I keep in my drawers... Yet I couldn't even bother to remember her name...

Well, what can I say. Hanging out with Ares does come with perks.

Plus, Lydia too said to me first thing today that I'm glowing and it makes me feel more relaxed and prettier. And to make me even more of a happy Crown Princess, she opened the black file and forced me to get back to work.

I hate schedules...

Yet, true to form, I do get handed my own copy and I do take some notes on it. Except that proper etiquette has gone out of the window today and I'm still remaining basically reclining on my chair, legs crossed on the desk.

She wants to tell me off, I can see it in her eyes, but she respects the Monarchy too much to do that.

By the way, I still cannot remember the name of my spying maid. I wouldn't be surprised if she has a name that fits her secret identity. Um... How about Ursula? Ares needs to take me on another secret date at three o'clock in the morning again. This way, I might be able to remember that as well.

Anyway, back to the best Hamlet performance ever, given by none other than the incomparable Lydia Kalogrides. Just picture her in men's clothing, pretend that she doesn't wear her reading glasses and that the piece of paper in her hands is actually a scalp, give her a different script, and the resemblance is uncanny.

"This is the confirmation from the Palace," she says. "It reads, quote, the Make-A-Wish event will take place on Friday, February the second, in the Reception Hall of the Royal Palace." She hands me the statement for me to sign and I gladly do so. At long last, my own wish is coming true! Now that the gala is over, those children can get the royal treatment they deserve. When I hand it back to Lydia, she furthers: "The people at Make-A-Wish are currently picking out which children will attend. You said you wanted fourteen children-"

"It wasn't me, it was the Palace!"

Interrupting is rude, thanks for the reminder, and I do apologize, but I'd like to set the record straight. Believe me, I would've invited all forty kids on the list if I could. But Zeus Almighty's aides had kept trying to convince Lydia to convince me to narrow it down to fourteen. I had been given a copy of the list Lydia and the rest of my team of staff had also received from the foundation, a complete list with their names, ages, and illnesses they are suffering from. It was the most heart-breaking thing I've read in a long time, even worse than all those best-selling romance novels I hide in here. I actually cried while reading it. All those children, wishing to come to the tea party and join the fun but being unable to just because they weren't selected... It was the worst thing ever. In the end, I just handed it to Lydia and let her decide.

Unless I ensure that the foundation and I host that party every year. Give to all the children the opportunity to see a real-life princess in action, complete with her gown and tiara. I actually get lots of complaints from children during engagements that I shouldn't have left my tiara at home because I'm a Princess and princesses always wear tiaras, gowns, and sashes.

Aren't they just adorable!

Yet Lydia continues reciting like the great actress she is: "-Fourteen children to attend and priority will be given to the terminally ill ones." Please stop reminding me... "Your press secretary would also like to invite a few journalists at the occasion. For media attention."

Not bloody likely.

"Tell him I only want one of the royal photographers." My own orders are more important than those of my press secretary. Guess why and you'll get a cookie. "I think I would like for it to be captured on video! But whichever photographer is picked, I want them to be careful. I wouldn't wish for the children to feel like they're being watched. I imagine that meeting me inside the Royal Palace would be enough to make them shy. I want them to enjoy every second of that afternoon. Perhaps we should also upload it to the Internet. Do we have a website?"

Lydia looks bewildered: "No, Miss, I'm afraid not...

"Why not?" Yes, I've just had an idea. Fasten your seat belts. "I think it would make for some amazing PR. We need to look to the future, not the past, if we want to survive. Have you ever heard of the term 'social media'? Those are becoming increasingly famous worldwide. You just go on a website, sign up for free, and that's it, now you're online!"

"How very interesting. I shall have your press secretary to look into it."

"Thank you. You may also remind him that he needs to be a little more... open-minded. But he's only been working with me for three years. He still has quite a lot to learn, we won't hold that against him."

Lydia throws me a disapproving glare and then gets back to topic: "Right. Now, about the gown you shall wear on the occasion. It should be the exact same dress you will wear at the New Year's Eve gala, right?"

"Yes."

Now, it may seem tacky of us to host two lavish galas in such a short amount of time, but the New Year's Eve gala at the Royal Palace is a tradition. In fact, it's the biggest night of the year for the Athenian high society and the last and first time each year that we get to wear our tiaras and sashes. We may be the only royal family left in the world that still makes such a big deal out of New Year's Eve... Last time I checked, every other royal out there was celebrating it with their close family. In private. Or away at an exotic destination or whatever.

Truth be told, there had been discussions in recent years about not hosting that gala anymore. But frankly, it'll be easier to convince the Greeks to trust their politicians than to end that tradition. Oh, well. Don't worry about the dress, however. It's all ready and it fits me just fine. My dresser has been working on it since last year. As she does every year. She designs it herself too. For the record, she worked for Chanel and Dior before landing in my team of staff.

I just don't hire random people here!

"Is the Rose Crystal Tiara ready?" I ask.

"Yes. It is being taken care of."

That is actually my most favourite piece of jewelery from those that I own. It's a diamond tiara, made in the shape of a fully blossomed rose. Thunder had given it to Mother as a wedding gift, but after their divorce Mother didn't want it, so she passed it down to me. Technically, it's also my first-ever tiara, even though I didn't get to wear it before I turned eighteen. Those are the rules. No tiaras while you're a minor. And you thought our lives were great...

So, next on the table: Lydia reminds me of the lengths Zeus Almighty went to make sure I won't run to freedom via the fire escape again. Believe it or not, he had the cameras that were already on the fire escape replaced, because he thought that the ones that were already there hadn't done a good enough job. The old ones were simply fine, I just had a great wig worth the small fortune I spent on it.

Talking of, I should ask Anna to get me another one.

Oh, I forgot. I now have two more bodyguards working for me, but I won't be seeing them at all. They'll be working in shifts, just sitting in a room that was intended for the use of the hotel staff but which now must be filled with the newest computers and just looking at what's going on inside the room and all over the corridors of the hotel. I mean it. Each and every single corridor is now being supervised 24/7. Even the ones accessible only to the staff.

Still, the only places left without a secret camera installed in here is my bedroom, the bathroom, and the boudoirs. Sorry, boys, but I won't strip on camera for you, even if you kill for my sake.

Oh, have I also mentioned the frequent patrols of the hotel security guards to the fire escape, just in case some unwanted visitors sneak in? Honestly. I go out for one night and Thunder just makes this place more of a fortress than it already was.

So, if you hear them whisper 'Seafoam', now you know that they'll be talking about me. Perhaps I have a new security code name. How about... 'Serendipity'?

I mean, it does sound fitting...

Lydia clears her throat loudly and almost immediately, she claps her hands.

I must look as absentminded as I am again because she looks like she's been trying to draw my attention for a while.

"I'm here, I'm awake!" I yell, raising my hands in defeat while sitting straight again.

She looks at me with that well-known half-smile of hers which shows just how hard she's trying to keep from either laughing or screaming at me: "I can see that!"

I'll just let that sarcastic comment pass me by. No one but us know she talks to me like that and I let her. After all, she's old enough to be my mother. Just don't tell her I told you that.

She hands me another piece of paper and then takes a step back as if making sure I actually read the damn thing. It's only a confirmation.

Oh, boy... Oh, no...

"As you can already see, you will have to act as regent again while Their Majesties will be in the US on a state visit in March."

I had done nothing wrong when I went there. In fact, I had gone there to prepare the ground for their visit. Not to mention that the reason they're going is entirely different than mine. I went for the people. They go for politics. Long story.

"I should've signed this months ago!"

Greek bureaucracy at its finest. The Constitution acknowledges me as the King's Regent when he's away so, technically, I don't need to give the PM a written confirmation about it. But no one knows why I have to do it. Yet no one seems to wonder why either, except for me and everyone that gets to hear me whine about this.

Lydia shrugs her shoulders: "I'm afraid, Miss, I don't know what happened either. It must have gotten lost so they issued a new one."

That's why nothing ever gets done in this country. I let out a long sigh and, without further ado, I sign it and hand it back to Lydia.

"Do remind me to convince all those politicians that my taking on the role of Regent happens automatically and they don't have to give me tons of papers to sign!"

Yet she continues talking as if she hasn't heard me: " Their Majesties are going on a state visit to the U.S. between the second and the seventh of March. As you know, they do need a few more days to prepare, so you will act as Regent from the first to the eleventh."

Sounds like their kind of decision. "Do they really need four days to recover from jet lag?"

"No. His Majesty has also requested that he sees you on the job. See how good you are at bringing forth stability. This whole thing about the reform on education and the cuts on retirement fees may result in an early general election and it will be your job to prevent it."

I can't believe this... So he's leaving me to do the hard part of the job while he takes a few days to himself?

"They're stupid either way." Here I come playing the political expert to brighten up your day. "Every time we have a new government, education is the first thing everyone wants to reform and the very first thing they attack is the measures the previous administration passed. Then another one comes as well and it's a vicious circle.

Lydia looks at me so proudly, as if I'm the Queen already. "I see you read the newspapers!" Actually, Zeus Almighty makes me, but I still like her for reminding me so gently. "Then I believe you must also be aware of the reactions to your..." She's trying to come up with the right word: "-disappearance and the gala."

There's not much to see here. Some people think I messed with them and that this is a sign that I won't make a good monarch and others are just glad that I'm alright. Spot the monarchists in the bunch. There was also one guy in a center-left newspaper that said Prince Ares and I have a great sense of humour. He might have been sarcastic, his writing style showed he was not. Well, then, now Zeus Almighty has one more reason to be proud of me. I finally managed to do what no other King of the Hellenes has done. The liberals like me!

Still, on a general note, most newspaper focus on the gala. The republicans say that the Royal Family once more used public funds to overindulge in their wealth and status in a disgusting and tasteless way and that the people should keep on the lookout for more tax raises to pay off the cost of the gala, all while thousands of retirees live in danger of losing a large amount of their income due to the cuts on their fees so that the government can finance the education reform. Or something like that. Either way, this won't be happening. Trust me, I read the top confidential government papers right after Zeus Almighty has signed them. Lydia always brings me the briefcases herself. Always trust your Private Secretary to do the toughest part of the job for you. Anyway. I do agree with them on one thing, though. If the Queen really wants to do some good for this country, she should get out in the street or just found another charity in support of the poor. You're a royal, you're representing the country, you're meant to be out there, see how the nation lives! Witness the difficulties they face, the things that make them smile, how they dress, how they act, how optimistic or pessimistic they are for the future, how they treat you...!

See, Father Dearest, I did learn my lesson now!

The monarchists, on the other hand, keep repeating what a great success the gala was and how the Queen now returns to her normal schedule of engagements. Business as usual!

Suddenly, I have an idea. One that doesn't involve an Internet connection.

"Do you think it'd be a good idea if I invited Hephaestus over?"

Lydia was saying something else but she shuts up and looks at me as if I'm even more of a weirdo than she thought: "Miss?"

"We do have a dining room which is hardly used. We can order room service and we will be able to meet in a friendly environment."

She just stares at me for a few seconds and then she finally speaks: "I think this might be getting it a little too far."

With a determined grin on my face, I stand up and approach her. I sit on the desk and rest my hand on her shoulder. About time we spoke as friends: "Lydia. Darling. The King is obsessed with getting me married to that particular man and I believe I ought to give him a good time, at least. Rather... Why don't we invite Prince Ares over too? This way he'll rest assured. Or maybe not. No, that's a horrible idea. Arrange for me to have dinner with Mr. Petalas at a fancy restaurant, the fanciest one you can find, and tell the Prince that I'd like to have dinner with him here! I do believe there is some unfinished business between us."

Yup. Her worst fears have been confirmed. She looks at me like she's about to give me a good lecture on proper behaviour. Well, if I were her daughter or niece and not her boss and future sovereign, she'd have definitely done so: "I do not believe it would be wise for you to invite His Royal Highness over. Not after everything that has happened between you. Let alone after this cover is still widely discussed."

Ah! The infamous _A ROYAL ROMANCE?_ headline with the picture of Ares and me dancing. The title and the article have nothing to do with the newspaper by the way. Oh, yes. It's the headline of a republican quality newspaper and the title refers to our 'romance' with wealth and, quote, 'the useless pomp and pageantry that seems to be used as a way to promote Greece behind Palace walls. Meanwhile, the government tries to find the funds for the reforms in the educational system which shall bring forth cuts in retirement fees and the budget in health care'. Well, for one thing, I agree with that because I dislike the current government as much as they do. But, I have to give it to them, they do know what they're doing. All those rumours about Ares and me will start again, until everyone comes back to their right minds and realizes just how ridiculous the prospect of Ares and me getting together is.

If only they knew!

"I don't think it would be wise for us to wait," I reply, trying my best to sound convincing enough. "The Prince and I have some unfinished business between us and the sooner everything has been said and done, the better!"

Lydia notes something and then she taps her pen on the file and faces me again: "When should each dinner take place?"

"I'll leave it up to you," I say as I walk back behind the desk and on the brown leather chair: "You know my schedule better than anyone. Anything else?"

Lydia opens her mouth to speak, but she's interrupted by the sound of the door opening. It's Anna. See, I can remember her name after I've mentioned it a few times! Until the next time I forget about it again, that is. I'm so sorry, dear!

"Um, excuse me, Miss, Mrs. Kalogrides. The car is ready."

At once, I grab my purse from the desk and get up. I have to go to Tatoi, to bid Queen Demeter farewell. Before I exit the room, though, I turn to Lydia: "You might want to order room service while you're working. They make excellent chocolate croissants in here!"

Lydia removes her reading glasses and closes the file: "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Miss!"

"You're very welcome!"

It's not the first time I let her work here. She also likes how far more quiet and comfortable it is compared to her office at the Royal Palace. In there, she has all the Private Secretaries, Private Assistants, Press Secretaries, etc work, drink coffee, and be loud without intending to be and she can't focus in there as well as she does here. Plus, there's also Blanche to keep her company and play with her when she gets bored.

Besides, I do need someone I can trust to stay, other than Anna of course. I have a feeling that I'll be up for a surprise today.

Whatever it is, though, I have a feeling that Thunder and Peacock won't like it.

Not one bit.

* * *

 _Helipad, Palace of Tatoi, Acharnai_

The entire Greek Royal Family had all gathered to bid Demeter farewell before her flight back to Denmark. She was the last of their royal guests to leave. Only Cronus was absent. Again. He had sent no excuses or goodbyes either. As if he no longer wished to be a member of the family.

Well, as long as he would keep away from Rhea, no one complained about his absence.

Demeter surely didn't seem to mind. She had not even mentioned him, preferring to say goodbye to everyone else instead and to spend a few minutes talking to her mother. The next time she would come to Greece, she'd bring Persephone with her. Plus, she had accepted Zeus' invite for her family to join them on their summer cruise to the Greek islands on the HGMY Thalatta. Her brother had also been kind enough to lend her the Royal Helicopter so that she could travel to the Athens International Airport safely. A Challenger CL-604 of the Danish Royal Air Force was already waiting for her there, complete with a Danish crew and her aides, ready to take her back home.

She was sad to be leaving, even though she was smiling softly. She hated goodbyes and so she tried to keep it as short as possible. Yet, everyone reminding her how much they'd miss her until the next time they'd meet again made it harder for her to keep from crying.

After kissing Zeus goodbye and curtsying to him, she turned on her heel and boarded the helicopter. The door behind her closed, the crew made sure that everything was ready, and they gave the signal for taking off. An aide standing nearby motioned to the King and he, understanding what it meant, suggested they all made their way back to the Palace.

Ares was the last to leave. He had made sure he was walking right behind Aphrodite, so that he could take a good look at her without his relatives thinking he acted weird. She looked radiant. As always. But he wouldn't talk to her much. They had figured it would be better if they would just stay away from each other as much as possible. Better have their relatives believe they had yet another fight than to give them reason to believe the rumours. Still, he was allowed to stand next to her and, pretending to be putting his hands behind his back, to secretly caress her arm or whisper a few naughty things in her ear that made her smile so hard that she had to keep from laughing. Instead, she'd step on his foot to reassure him that she liked his joke and to encourage him to go on. But Ares knew it was also a warning. He ought not to overdo it, or else she wouldn't be able to contain herself.

Just what Ares wanted.

He was already planning their second (or was it the third?) secret meeting. He'd love to hold her in his arms, to taste, smell her, and take her all in before he would return to the army base in three days. It sounded impossible. Starting tomorrow, they would hardly have any moment to themselves. Perhaps he could call his General and ask him for a few more days, say until after New Year's. Or maybe not. He liked a good challenge. The prospect of him and Aphrodite stealing only a few moments, even if it was just for a single kiss, was daunting.

Challenge accepted, then.

For a moment, he regretted that Aphrodite had worn trousers instead of one of her trademark flowing skirts. The wind that the helicopter's rotors caused would have made for an amazing Marilyn Monroe moment of her behalf and a glimpse at her gorgeous legs. He smiled to himself. They and her hips were his favourite parts of Aphrodite's body. They made her the amazing "dancer" that she was known to be.

He should consider himself lucky he was walking behind her, then. Aphrodite was holding Hebe's hand and chatting to Eileithyia about all that nonsense women say to one another. Yet he remained fixed on her legs. He could still feel a tingle down his spine at the memory of caressing the soft skin and being trapped between them. It was like they could keep him in place and guide him at the same time.

And wasn't she just the master at this game!

But soon enough, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder and brought him back to reality.

Like it or not, he recognized that heavy voice whispering in his ear:

"Look at how slow everyone walks, as if we're just coming back from a freaking funeral!"

His uncle, Poseidon, was not in a good mood today. It may have been Queen Demeter's departure to blame, or perhaps he had had another dispute with his wife or his brother, since he promptly avoided both of them. Amphitrite preferred to chat with Hera and Hestia and Zeus preferred to socialize with Hades. So, his favourite nephew was his only chance so that he wouldn't be left outside alone entirely.

Under normal circumstances, Ares would have welcomed his beloved uncle with a smile and a friendly pat on the shoulder. Poseidon had always been a father figure to Ares, always there to defend him everytime Zeus blamed him or accused him and constantly giving him advice on life and women. As a matter of fact, Poseidon had been the first to talk to him about women (and even introduced him to some when he was in his early twenties) and he had always encouraged his love of fast vehicles.

Yes, life would've been so much easier for him if Poseidon and Amphitrite had adopted him instead. Perhaps then he would also be able to go public with his relationship with Aphrodite. Cousins never grew up together, so it would have made it easier for the world to believe they had actually fallen for each other.

But no matter how much he trusted Poseidon, he could never tell him about Aphrodite. It would take the magic of their affair away. Plus, it might result in some endless lecturing by Poseidon. Or, even worse, Amphitrite might find out and she'd tell Hera. Those women never kept their mouths shut.

Lucky for Ares, he came back to reality before Poseidon had even realized he had been daydreaming. "Good to see you're in good spirits, too!" he teased him.

Poseidon took a careful look at Ares. He looked tired. He had black circles under his eyes and as if he was in desperate need of a drink. As if he was trying to conceal his frustration over something.

"My brother gave you a lecture last night, didn't he?" he said.

Ares chuckled before leaving a long, desperate sigh. The night before, Zeus had hosted a private farewell dinner for Demeter. Yet he couldn't help using the occasion as another opportunity to lecture his "mindless and careless" children that "mobile phones are an essential part of your security and you should never leave without them." Everyone around the table had agreed with him, either because they truly meant it or just didn't want to ignite his fury further by defending them. Not even Hera came to the rescue, choosing instead to intervene only to change the subject to something happier. Aphrodite had gotten away with it. After all, Zeus himself had also called her "careless" and "absentminded". Ares, on the other hand, had not been so lucky. After dinner, Zeus had asked to see him in his office downstairs. The soundproofed room was the ideal location for a father-to-son talk.

There, he had given him yet another lecture. One he had heard plenty of times in the past. He and Aphrodite ought to be more careful and take full responsibility for their own decisions and actions, as fully-grown adults are expected to do (oh, the irony!), and how he had not followed his wishes to stay away from Aphrodite. Ares had been about to say that he had been to different places than Aphrodite and he had only seen her for the first time after the gala at dinner. But before he could say it, Zeus had unfolded a newspaper that had been lying on his desk and he handed it to Ares. It had been the one with the picture of Ares and Aphrodite dancing and the headline A ROYAL ROMANCE. Ares knew that the relevant article had had absolutely nothing to do with the picture, yet the King persisted: "People look at the covers. They're hanging around the kiosks all over Athens, they're shown on television, they're faster and easier to read than the entire newspaper. This picture is not befitting of two siblings." Ares had taken a more careful look at the photo. The lack of distance between him and Aphrodite, the way their bodies had touched and how they had looked at each other like they had been the only two people in the world... For a moment, Ares had feared that Zeus might have known. But then he had thought twice. Zeus wouldn't have been as calm as he had been then if he had found out about their affair. He would have kicked him out too and torn apart the adoption certificate, thus riding him of all the life he had ever known. It would have been the ideal punishment that Zeus would have come up with. Or maybe no. Perhaps he would have also gotten Aphrodite married to that creep Hephaestus sooner in order to keep Ares away from his sister. But then Zeus had furthered: "Aphrodite's press secretary advised against pressing charges because he doesn't want a scandal to break out. But you can't control the rumours." Then, approaching Ares again, he had taken the newspaper from his hands and looked him in the eye. He had had that glint in his eye that Ares would have frightened by when he was eight years old. Yet, Zeus couldn't terrorize him anymore, punish and threaten him as he might. "I just don't want to see a picture like that on the newspaper ever again," he stated. Ares had simply handed him back the newspaper and left the room as soon as possible. He had spent the night drinking, smoking, and thinking of her and all the times he had held her in his arms.

And now, she was right there, in front of him, and he couldn't even touch her because Zeus and Hera made sure to keep a close eye on them at all times!

"He will never change!" Poseidon chuckled softly, bringing Ares back to reality. He turned to face his nephew: "I gave up trusting him ages ago!"

"He believes those stupid covers!" Ares said, only to add mimicking Zeus: "The media play a significant role in the family's reputation and consequently, to the survival of the Monarchy. I get it!"

"You should keep him away from the Internet then. Triton told me about this website, uh... Facebook or some other stupid name like that. From what I figured, people there come together and discuss various topics they find interesting. Well, he had come across a photo of that cover and people from all over the world kept commenting on how close you were while dancing."

"I thought that Amphitrite forbade him to use the Internet!"

"I convinced her that it would be a good way to practice his English. Socialize a bit too, perhaps. He has to have it under a fake name for privacy, though. On that, my wife had been adamant!"

Ares scoffed. The lengths they had to go to keep the media out of their lives! Yet, rumours were the result of endless gossiping and if people could see their special bond, soon word would reach Zeus and Hera. He kept his eyes fixed on Aphrodite, as she was now practically running up the marble double stairs in the garden connecting the front yard of the Palace to the rest of the estate. She was trying to catch up with Hebe, who was jumping up and down and pretending to be the ballerina. For a passing moment, Ares thought what a natural mother Aphrodite was. She touched Hebe tenderly, never left her out of her sight, and she had always made sure to catch up with her and keep her from harm.

But then, Ares pinched himself. He had no idea what had come into him. He had never considered having children. They meant trouble. To him, parenthood equaled the total loss of freedom and the entrapment into a boring routine filled with responsibilities and lack of adventures. All because of a baby that would cry every two hours, require constant feeding and changing, only to grow up and bring forth even more trouble. By the time the parents were rid of that burden, their youth had been wasted.

No, children were out of the question. Yet, when he took a glimpse at Aphrodite again, as she was hugging Hebe close and kissing her forehead tenderly, he couldn't help thinking that, perhaps, she was the only woman for whom he'd make that sacrifice.

Still, she'd be the exception. Not the rule.

Then Poseidon spoke again: "She's a beautiful woman, isn't she?"

Startled, Ares turned to look at his uncle: "Sorry?"

Poseidon was looking at him with a smug grin on his face. Then he pointed at Aphrodite. "Pretty, but lethal," he added. "Like every other woman out there!" Then he hugged Ares by the shoulders and brought him closer to him. This way, he could give him some man-to-man advice while they'd be walking up the stairs: "You know, son, there comes the time when you meet that one woman that means the world to you. When I met Amphitrite, I knew right there and then that she would be the woman I'd marry. I didn't seem to care that she wasn't of noble birth, aristocratic, or related to royalty. I do give your father credit for one thing, however. Thanks to him, we can now marry commoners for all we want!"

Ares knew that old rule, about how the members of the Greek Royal Family could not marry someone who wasn't a fellow royal or - at least - an aristocrat, or else they would lose their rights to succession. That used to apply to both men and women. Rhea may have been born and raised in a Greek island, but she was of noble birth. Her grandparents were Russian nobles who had moved to Greece searching for a warmer climate. Their children might have married commoners, but that had not striped them of their noble background. Yet, after the Monarchy had been reinstated in 1975, that law was abolished after claims that it had been too anachronistic and no longer applied to modern society, let alone a European country. Thus, Zeus had been allowed to marry Dione without losing his rights of succession. Same for Poseidon and Amphitrite. In fact, wasn't it for the law of absolute primogeniture, Poseidon would have been now the Crown Prince. Again, women used to be outranked by the men in the line of succession. It didn't matter whether that man was the brother, cousin, or nephew to the King. Due to his gender, he could outrank the King's daughters. Ares was certainly not the genius when it came to gender equality, but even he could agree that that law was stupid.

"Alright," he replied. "But what does it have to do with me?"

Poseidon rushed to explain: "You were gone without a reason and came back the same afternoon. Either you're in love or you're too desperately in love. Who is she?"

"I'm a man," Ares replied, sounding more annoyed than he intended. "I am entitled to have secrets. You told me so."

Poseidon chuckled: "Come on! Is she a supermodel? Knowing you, she must be." Suddenly, he stopped. They had arrived in front of the Palace of Tatoi. Everyone else were making their way inside, unknowingly allowing Ares and Poseidon to continue their conversation uninterrupted. Poseidon stood before his nephew and, taking a good look at him, he furthered: "Last time you looked as starstruck as that, you had dated the winner of the national pageant! What is she advertising? Swimming suits? Lingerie? Perfumes? Is she ah... some actress of some kind? A singer?"

Ares put his hands in the pockets of his coat and shrugged his shoulders in defeat: "I need to stop dating celebrities. I get that."

"I didn't say that. But, whoever she is, she's done wonders on you. She makes you question everything you've ever known. She's the reason you wake up every morning. I can see it in your eyes!"

Scanning the yard, Ares' eyes met Aphrodite's. It was just for a passing moment, for she stepped into the Palace a few seconds later. Like a vision or an illusion. Still, he kept staring at that door, hoping that she'd show up again soon enough: "In fact, Uncle, I think you may be right!"

"Great!" Poseidon replied. Something in the way he had uttered that word made Ares worried that he may be suspecting something. Perhaps he had noticed Aphrodite smiling at him, although she meant it in a friendly way, not a seductive one. She knew the rules to the game better than Ares. Let alone Poseidon, a total outsider in their world. Yet what Poseidon said next confirmed that he had no idea: "When we stumble upon one of her pictures in the magazines, you had better show me what she looks like."

Ares thought that it might be a good idea for him to tease him a little bit: "I'm pretty sure you've seen her before!"

"Ah! So, she is famous!" Both men laughed. "Is she good-looking at least?"

"You know me!" Ares said, taking a cigarette out of his pocket. He needed it so badly right now! "I settle for nothing short of angelic!"

Poseidon touched his shoulder again. It was a very father-like gesture, the sort of affection that Zeus never cared to show. "Worship her, then," he advised. "Angels turn into devils when they're double-crossed."

Ares couldn't help himself: "I should get that on a T-shirt!"

The two men burst out laughing again, but soon enough they also joined the others inside.

Ares knew that he and Aphrodite would continue their little game of "hide and seek". Being surrounded by their relatives would only make it more exciting. Then he'd just keep his fingers crossed that she'd lead him to an empty room and let him push her against the wall and bring his lips to hers. Then the earth would stop turning for a while, until they'd be interrupted by the sound of people talking or approaching the closed door.

It was the most classic part of this game, yet the only one they had yet to try.

Well then, about time that changed.

He knew that Aphrodite felt the same way.

The look in her eyes revealed as much.

* * *

 _The same afternoon..._

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

Remember the two bodyguards standing outside my front door every single hour of every single day?

Don't worry, they're still here. But they... are grinning? They're the guy whose nose Ares broke and that colleague of his who always does his shift at the same time as him. Now, to the one who had fallen victim to Ares' anger, I did give him the holidays off but he still comes back here, to make sure I'm still alright. I need to get him a special gift this year. Plus, I like the new nose better than the old one. But I don't dare tell him that.

Still, the question lingers. Why do they look at me like I'm five years old and they have a surprise in store for me?

"Welcome back, Miss!"

They're not allowed to call me 'Your Highness'. For security reasons. I'm still supposed to be living in here incognito. How come people haven't figured out yet, I don't know.

I turn to look at the other bodyguard that's accompanying me, but he remains as stiff as a sour pickle. Eventually, they do let me in and there's my spying maid, ready to take my coat and purse. Let's just call her Ursula and wish upon a star that I won't forget her name this time. Anyway, as soon as I got rid of my it (it's a typical red coat, designed by a Greek so that Thunder and Peacock stop whining - they yapped quite a lot that I wore Gucci at the gala...), Lydia shows up. From the sitting room.

And as if that weren't odd enough, she also has the biggest grin on her face.

Oh no...

I know that face. Every time Lydia smiles like the Mona Liza and has that glint in her eyes that the Joker would be jealous of, either Zeus Almighty has cheated on his wife again and needs me to get him out of the dirt or...

"It's Mother," I mutter. "She's here, isn't she?"

I also keep looking for Blanche. She wasn't behind the door to welcome me. It's not time for her walkies either. So...

Lydia's smile gets wider and without nodding, she steps aside and hurriedly, I open the door.

Blanche is on the sofa, chewing on a brand new toy. She's too busy to even bother noticing that I'm here. And next to her, is a woman that looks very, very familiar.

All the way from the high-heeled black Louboutins (custom-made, mind you), and the Chanel No. 5 to the excellent posture, ladylike manners, and gentle voice.

Mother!

She's here! She's finally here with me!

I don't know who jumps into whose arms first, but that's just a detail. What matters is that she's here! I'm holding her in my arms again, with the widest smile on my face, and she rocks me gently, tangling her fingers in her hair and just letting me realize that she's truly here.

She is!

All of a sudden, I feel... lighter. Just touching her and looking at her is enough to make me the most relieved I've felt in the longest while.

Mother has the unique ability to make me feel at home when she's here. Like all the wounds will be healed with one magic touch from her. Perhaps that's the miracle of mother/daughter relationships. I wouldn't be surprised Eris and Eileithyia feel the same way about Hera. I just won't be able to see her as my mother, no matter how many years go by. Mother is more than enough. No one, not even Lydia, will be able to sit on her throne. In short, she's my own superhero.

Look at me now, talking like Niobe...!

"How? When?" I ask in English once I break the embrace. Perhaps she might not wish us to speak Greek. After all, she does have a heavy English accent when she speaks it now.

She takes a stray strand of hair and puts it behind my ear. Then she takes both my hands in hers. She has a feather-like touch, as is befitting to a real lady.

"I read your email," she says in Greek. "I thought you might need some help!"

That's my mother! Always there the minute she realizes we might be in danger.

To be frank, though, I did not mention anything about Ares and what happened between us. But I did tell her everything else. From Zeus Almighty's match-making to the gala and Hephaestus' bracelet. She must have read about my disappearance too, or at least heard of it. She and Tantalus read all the Greek newspapers. Not to mention that, somehow, the news of my going AWOL made headlines worldwide...

I'm such a big prankster sometimes!

Maybe she doesn't know the disappearance bit though. If she doesn't bring it up first, I won't mention anything. It might bring back awful memories. To both of us.

Mother sits down again and only now do I notice her baby blue Akris dress and navy blue Dior dress coat. She has carefully placed it next to her on the sofa, so that she won't wrinkle it, along with the matching leather belt. Her black leatherette gloves are on the coffee table. Plus, her own cup of tea is almost full.

Now, it may sound like she and I have a similar sense of style, but we couldn't be more different when it comes to that. After all, the way we dress mirrors our personality. I love colours and attention, but she doesn't need to draw all eyes on her. Dione Oceanides, 'The Queen That Never Was' has a domineering presence and her clothes reflect that. She doesn't dress for the fun of mixing colours, fabrics, and patterns. Oh, no, she's too busy for that. Instead, solid colours are her favourites. Structured shirts, skirt-suits, shift dresses... But with a few feminine touches still. Kick pleats to the back of her skirts, sleeves revealing her wrists or up to the elbow... The perfect mixture of modern Ralph Lauren and vintage Dior. Alas, the very definition of feminine strength, subtle elegance, and timeless glamour. All tailored and ironed to a T.

She also has lived an impressive life. Her father, Grandpa Oceanus, is a self-made tycoon from Paphos. His wife was born to a family of tycoons in her own right and she was known as the most elegant and glamorous woman in Athens during the 1950s and 1960s. Mother is their fifth child and third daughter out of the ten children they had in total. Then she moved on to become the Crown Princess of Greece, only to divorce the future King and follow her heart. Somehow, she married Zeus Almighty's (former) best friend and she has been living in New York for almost twenty years now. Yes, believe it or not, Zeus and Tantalus used to be very close. Like brothers, actually, until Zeus found out that Tantalus had married his ex-wife. I guess this is one of the many reasons they moved to New York. Along with Tantalus' business activities, that is. Anyway, long story short, Mother is now the chair and co-founder of the Gynae Foundation, a non-profit whose aim is to raise awareness on reproductive health and sex-ed, improve health facilities for newborn children, maternity health, and to provide women of low income (single or married) with pads, tampons, and contraceptives. Lately, they've also been working with Planned Parenthood quite a lot and criticized about it even more. But Mother doesn't care about critics. The U.S. is a crazy, crazy country and it gives Mother the thrill she's always wanted - be political and make an actual difference in the world, but without having to actually run for office. The Gynae Foundation is active in about fifteen (mostly third-world) countries and Mother plans to expand that network to the Balkans and the former Soviet countries.

But don't take out the 'Welcome Home' banners just yet. She's not planning to work in Greece any time soon. She knows the media will care about her being here more than the reason she came.

Don't you just love journalists?

She holds her cup of tea again and turns to face me: "So, do tell me! How have you been coping so far?"

I tell her everything. All the while, she listens to me thoroughly. I can't help noticing that she has changed. Something about her does look different. She hasn't changed her face cream, shampoo, or makeup. Rather, it's the hair...

"You've cut your hair!" I say in Greek. Mother has persisted that we speak Greek when we are in here. We'll only talk in English when the matter is very serious. She still has trouble expressing herself in Greek properly.

At long last, she got that pixie cut! She has naturally straight hair and it looks great on her. I love how the long fringe falls on her forehead and frames her face. For years I kept telling her to do a pixie cut, but she kept saying she wouldn't like to get rid of her long hair just yet. She loved to wear them in curls but never on a bun. But, I'm so glad she went with it now, even after all the whining I've done to her about it.

Next stop, a bob. It'll look good on her too. Just wait and you'll see.

I forgot to mention, she's a rather legendary figure here. Like me, only more so. That comes out of causing a sensation for getting married to the Crown Prince while heavily pregnant and for divorcing almost two years later, only to disappear in New York and make a career out of very controversial and even taboo topics.

"Yes!" she says, smiling, and touching the back of her head. "I needed some change. Do you like it?"

"I love it! I really do!" She chuckles and then I can't help asking: "So, how long will you be staying?"

"For as long as necessary."

"What about the others in London?"

Every Christmas, the Oceanides bunch gather at Grandmother and Grandfather's stately home in London (one of the very few left, mind you. They bought it from a Duke or something ages ago). I wish I could join them, but I have to stay here and attend engagement after engagement on Christmas and New Year's. The plaque unveilers then turn into pie and cake cutters. It's as boring as it sounds. But you get to see Zeus Almighty in his full military uniform! We used to wear long day gowns complete with fascinators or hats and sashes and orders, but we are dressed more simply now, thank god. Still, skirt suits are a must.

We need to stick to tradition. Or else the sky will come crashing on our heads.

Suddenly, Mother opens her purse (which matches the Dior dress, mind you), and she brings out a CD. "This is the new copy of the DVD from the last summer holidays you've spent with us."

Oh, thank goodness! I had lost my copy while I had my things packed up for the tour. After all this time, I still don't know where it is.

I take it in my hands. I can recognize Khalkiope's gentle handwriting among millions of others! She's my first cousin, the daughter of Eidya, Mother's younger sister.

You'll learn them all in time, I'm sure. In about a decade. The Olympios bunch may be complicated, but the Oceanides squad is huge. I mean it. Half my aunts and uncles in my maternal family have been divorced and remarried at least once. Some have children out of wedlock, too. And I'm standing in the middle.

Hence my troublesome sanity.

Anyway, I spent the summer of 2005 at Despotiko, the most beautiful island in the Cyclades and it has been owned by the Oceanides family since the 1960s. They spend all their summers cruising the Greek islands on board their yacht, the "Titania", then stay to Despotiko throughout July and August and then they spend September in my mansion in Paphos. Summers in Cyprus are unbearably hot, so autumn and early spring are the only times of the year when they like to visit their home country and favourite island. Still, they love Despotiko just the same. They're not allowed to build on there, though, because it's filled with antiquities, which in return are owned by the Greek state. Still, they do own all the beaches!

Yes, sorry, I got excited. So, I did spend my summer holidays in 2005 with them and they made sure that every single second of it is captured on camera. It was the two most fun weeks of my life! Then, the HGMY Thalatta came over, and I had to join the Olympios squad all over again for the remainder of the holidays.

To say the transition was harsh is an understatement...

"Shall we watch it?" I ask Mother, more excitedly than I intended to sound.

"Certainly!" she replies.

Without a second thought, I rush to put the DVD on. The TV I have in the Suite has a built-in DVD player - a special import from the U.S. Before I realize it, Mother and I are eating chocolate croissants (provided to you by the power of room service) and laughing at all the mischief all of us first cousins would get into together. We'd pull funny faces at the camera, throw water and food at each other, dive from rocky cliffs, (try to) cook and do some speed racing. In another bit, the entire family is playing the tourist at their own island, visiting all the ruins. We've just come back from a long day at the beach, so that's why everyone is wearing either shorts and T-shirts or just their bathing suits. Except for me and Grandmother Tethys. Granny's in white linen trousers and a blue shirt and I'm in a beach dress.

I don't know what had gotten into me that day. I missed playing the royal, I guess. For which I was teased a lot.

That's who my maternal family is. They don't give a damn about ranks or titles. I just happen to be their future queen. But at the end of the day, I'm still their granddaughter, niece, and cousin. They even call me "Froufrou". When I was little, I couldn't say my own name so that's how I'd introduce myself. Some of my cousins, and my half-brothers, even call me "Biscuit" because they say that "Froufrou" sounds like it. I guess they're right then...

Oh, I just missed them all!

Now forgive me while I rest my head on Mother's knees and try hard not to cry while she continues to caress my hair and reassure me that everything is going to be fine. She doesn't even need to say it.

I know it will.

She's right here. She'll keep me from harm.

That's all I need.

* * *

 _The King's Office, Royal Palace_

Zeus was getting impatient. He was certain that Hephaestus and his parents had seen the pictures of Ares and Aphrodite in the press, the news, and those god-damned gossip shows. Since Aphrodite herself seemed unwilling to take the initiative, he had to fix the damage on his own.

Hurriedly, he picked up the receiver and called the number. After a few moments, a deep, hoarse voice was heard. Zeus didn't waste another minute:

"Mr. Petalas!"

"Majesty!" the financier said. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I was told you had a complaint about a particular cover on a quality newspaper."

'As if I'm the one to blame for that as well...' Zeus thought.

"Yes. Concerning His Royal Highness-"

"He's not a threat." The authoritative tone in the King's voice made Hephaestus' father sit up straight in his chair. On the other end of the line, Zeus grabbed a pen resting on his desk filled with closed files whose content had to be read and signed and began to scribble something down on a white sheet on paper.

"Yes, but the media-"

"They want to sell and make up rumours. I can confirm that nothing written in there is true. The wedding between the Crown Princess and your son will proceed as arranged."

"Thank you, Your Majesty. Shall I be expecting the engagement announcement in three months? You had told me, during the Crown Princess's tour, that the Palace would have to sell a story to the press about them having a past and we'd hope that the people would believe it."

Zeus knew what he was playing at. He was trying to gain the upper hand, play the trump card that he had been the one with the money. Yet, Zeus still more powerful. Both in terms of rank and of important connections. The Petalas family wanted to raise their social status. Stupid 'nouveau riches' with no significant family history to go with their wealth. Hephaestus' forefathers had been blacksmiths in a tiny island at Lemnos. So small, in fact, that it didn't even exist in the map. Everyone there had been either shepherds or blacksmiths, who married their first and second cousins to keep the few plots of land they owned in the family. After all, they had all been related to each other one way or another. Hephaestus' grandfather had made a fortune during the German occupation of Greece during the 1940s by selling foods at the black market. He had received wedding rings, expensive jewelery, and fur coats in return of some beans, flour, or milk. After the war had ended, he had avoided criminal prosecution by traveling to Germany, Britain, and Sweden via Italy and Norway. There, he'd sell everything he had acquired during those dark times. He had wanted to get rid of them before their owners came back asking for them. Ten years later, he had succumbed to his mother's wishes, returned to Lemnos, and married his second cousin. Then they had left for Argentina, where he had become a famous jewelery maker. They had returned to Greece in the 1970s, their twenty-year-old son in tow who had studied finance and who would later continue the long family tradition by marrying his third cousin and having a son with her, called Hephaestus. Everyone in that family had turned out just fine, which was considered a scientific miracle considering the decades if not centuries of constant incest. Yet, Mr. Petalas would later sell his parents' jewelery store in Buenos Aires (a blooming business indeed) only to make a fortune via investments.

The only thing they lacked was the one they had been after for almost sixty years: inclusion in the elite. The best possible way to achieve that would be by breaking the mold and marrying their son off to the most powerful family they could imagine. It just happened that Hephaestus had fallen under the Crown Princess's spell and the King in some urgent need for money and fast. It had been the best opportunity for a good old-fashioned matchmaking.

Zeus hated that. He despised the prospect of having someone who could barely walk straight as his future son-in-law and he felt disgusted at being in the need of a family who wanted to use his family's history and prestige for their own gain. Still, whatever lies he had kept telling to everyone, from Aphrodite and Hera to himself, he had not changed his mind about one thing. Hephaestus would offer Aphrodite the emotional stability she was lacking. Perhaps, over time, she would see it too and stop flashing everyone with her antics and conquests.

It was his turn now. He'd follow Mr. Petalas' method and hit him right where he hurt: "I must say, the Queen and I are worried about Hephaestus' appearance and the questions that it will most certainly raise. Incest is a big taboo in all the European countries, although not so much in the world of royalty. The Queen is mostly concerned about what consequences that little detail might bring to the aspect of reproduction. Any troubled gene might affect either Hephaestus' ability or, even worse, it might find its way to the baby's DNA. I trust that Hephaestus has gone through the examination I had requested. I respect your wishes not to have our physician examine him or to send a copy of the results to my secretaries. But, if there is such a prospect, I ought to know."

For a few seconds, Zeus could hear the sound of papers falling and crumpling. When Mr. Petalas spoke again, he said the same words he had been telling the King all along. Which he believed was what His Majesty had wanted to hear: "It is all perfect, Sir. Tens of doctors have confirmed that. Besides, you want the money, the connections, and a husband for the Crown Princess, my wife wants the status and fame, and I am more than pleased to expand my network. It's a win-win situation."

"We'll see about that. You know that I don't want a hemophilic or deformed grandchild." The way he said it let it be implied that there would be consequences in case the Petalas family were lying about their son. But Zeus also had to do what Hera had asked him to do. She had thought it was a good idea and he could find no reason to disagree: "Now, given the opportunity, I would like to invite you personally to the New Year's Eve gala at the Royal Palace. You will receive the invite by a trusted aide of mine within the next forty-eight hours. The Queen and I would be thrilled to have you among us. It will also be a good way for my daughter to meet her future in-laws."

Hera had written those words in a piece of paper and he was reading them aloud. She had underlined the word 'thrilled' but Zeus wasn't in the mood to play the good actor. Good for him, Hephaestus' father paid more attention to what the King had said rather to how he had uttered it.

"Thank you very much, Your Majesty. I am sure my wife will be pleased! Hephaestus is also invited, I take it?"

'Those people are stupider than I predicted...' Zeus thought to himself.

"Of course," he said instead. "He will be escorting her to that one as well. I will once again be breaking the protocol, but the more events they attend together, the faster the rumours will circulate and the easier it will be for both of us to seal the deal. I expect you have also read about the state visit to the U.S. in March. The Crown Princess will exercise her right to act as Regent during that time. But that doesn't mean she will bring the match to an abrupt end and she is aware of it."

'I hope...'

Yet, Mr. Petalas' next words only increased Zeus' doubt that Aphrodite wouldn't do so: "With all due respect, Your Majesty, there is something in the Crown Princess's behaviour that rubs me the wrong way. It's not just the Prince. It's the overall attitude."

Zeus stared at his watch. He was beginning to grow impatient. The five minutes required for that phone call were almost over, and yet here he was, wasting his time over something completely pointless!

"You knew that when we agreed and I will repeat to you what I told you then. Trying to change her will make matters worse. She's smarter than she says she is. But she also knows what her duty is. She won't undermine her own father and King. For that, you can sleep soundly. Give me up to six months, starting on New Year's Day. If their engagement is not announced by June first, the agreement no longer stands. I can guarantee, though, that the Crown Princess will stay out of trouble until then."

That very moment, the door opened. It was one of His Majesty's Private Secretaries. True to form, she, too, had been waiting for the five minutes to go by before she could announce the news to the King. She was surprised to see that he was still on the phone. Still, the five minutes were almost over and it was a bit of an emergency. It couldn't wait any longer.

"Manhattan Five Two has arrived," she said loud enough for the King to hear at the other end of the room.

Zeus stood still. He had no idea what to do.

Dione. That was the person behind that ridiculous code name. Dione Oceanides, the woman that would've been his queen instead, was in Athens. Out of the blue. Now, of all times!

The secretary promptly closed the door behind her but remained in the room. Maybe it was the sound of the door closing or Mr. Petalas eagerly asking him if he's still on the line that brought him back to reality.

"Yes. Excuse me, I'll have to call you back." He hung up, stood up, and fixed his jacket. After clearing his throat, he turned to his secretary: "When?"

"A few hours ago," the woman in her early fifties replied. She was the longest-serving and most trusted Private Secretary that His Majesty currently employed. She knew just how serious the situation was and how Mrs. Oceanides' arrival could swift the balance of the Royal Family, just as the storm was over and everyone was beginning to enjoy the holidays. "She is staying at the Grande Bretagne," she furthered. "The Crown Princess's bodyguards have just informed me on that. We don't know for how long she'll be staying. Her Majesty hasn't been informed about her arrival."

"Good," the King nodded, rubbing his chin and walking up and down in the room. Then, he turned to her again: "I wish it to remain that way."

"I wasn't going to say anything without your permission, Sir."

"Great. Thank you."

She curtsied and left, closing the door behind her. Once Zeus was left on his own, he clenched his fists tightly and tried to keep from throwing all the files out of his desk.

It must be Aphrodite's doing for sure. There was no other way or reason for Dione to come all the way to Greece unless she felt that her daughter was 'in danger'. The damsel in distress...

His ex-wife would certainly try to put an end to the match, if she knew about it. Whom was he kidding? Of course Dione knew! She and Aphrodite were so very close that they knew each other's secrets. Every single one of them. He was in trouble. Dione would try to stop it by presenting to him the same argument that he had told his father to convince him to consent to his and Dione's marriage.

The Oceanides family were billionaires. They had at least ten times the money that the Petalas family had. Heck, they could even destroy the entire Greek economy with a single phone call! Aphrodite certainly knew what she was doing. She was trying to push him against the wall and make him change his mind. Or, if she had not thought about using her mother that way, Dione certainly would have. Zeus knew perfectly well that Aphrodite would live comfortably for the rest of her life with the trust fund her maternal grandparents provided her with. She would also have plenty of money left to pass down to her children and still they would be extremely rich. But, since he had divorced Dione, Zeus had not been allowed anywhere near that money. It was even harder now that Aphrodite was an adult and had her own bank account.

Suddenly, he had an idea. He would invite Dione out to dinner. He'd book an entire restaurant to themselves, under a false name. Perhaps even introduce them as husband and wife. It'd have to be an expensive one, for those were familiar with those kinds of tricks and could provide them with the privacy they needed. There, they could talk things through. Hera wouldn't join them. Even if she was asked to do so, she'd never. She and Dione hadn't spoken to each other in twenty years. Better yet, they had mastered at avoiding each other at all costs, even though they tolerated each other when the cameras were flashing, capturing their every move in the few occasions they happened to attend the same event. Should he let Hera know about this, though? He'd think about it later.

Maybe it'd be a better idea if that restaurant wasn't in Athens at all. He could commission the royal helicopter, the jet, or even the HGMY Thalatta for them to have their dinner in peace. Yes, the royal yacht was a good choice. It'd give them privacy and keep them away from the paparazzi, which was the most important thing. The last thing he wanted was to ignite the rumours that they were together again. Yet both Zeus and Dione would be in a familiar setting. She loved sailing and he treated the Thalatta as his third home, after the Royal Palace and Tatoi.

Nevertheless, Zeus knew that Dione's arrival in Athens wouldn't remain a secret for long. She was a mystery to most, which is why everyone was as enchanted by her as they were by Aphrodite. For that reason, it would be better if he would tell Hera about it, instead of having her find out via the media or their staffers.

He had lied to his secretary, but it was for good reason. Besides, he'd need some time to think about what he'd tell Dione.

He remembered her icy stare. She had looked at him like that only twice in their lives. The first time while she had been giving birth and he had been in the delivery room, being completely useless and the second time when she had told him she had wanted a divorce. Perhaps it's true what people would say. A third time would be the charm.

If only he knew for whom.

* * *

 _Hotel GB, Royal Suite_

Santa came early this year and he looks just like my mother.

Don't give me that look. I'm serious!

The DVD isn't the only present she's brought from New York. She's also given me Niobe's Christmas card (she has drawn a big Christmas tree on the cover and inside she writes 'Merry Christmas Froufrou' with too much silver and gold glitter), a long silver and diamond necklace Mother brought from Tiffany's, and a folder filled with family pictures. She took it out of her purse after we had finished watching the DVD and now here we are, barefoot, knees bent on the sofa, Blanche on Mother's lap, and we're laughing ourselves to tears!

As for the photos, they're scattered between us. Those are random private pictures of the Oceanides family taken throughout the decades. There's Mother and all four of her sisters in that dreadful 1980s fashion and monstrous hair, then another one, (taken on the same day apparently, because they're wearing the same outfits), with my grandparents, Tethys and Oceanus, sitting in front. All of their ten children, their spouses, and me and some of my first cousins. Oh look, there's Tantalus with long hair! And then there's four-year-old me, three-year-old Khalkiope, and six-year-old Astris sitting by our grandparents. My male cousins are all lying on the grass, not caring about getting their clothes dirty. Plus, two of my aunts were pregnant when that photo was taken. Then come the most recent ones: Khalkiope's sixteenth birthday party in Barcelona. We had escaped to a beach bar and got her drunk for the first time, never caring about the long lectures from our parents that followed suit for days on end. Plus, some random guy had thrown his tequila on me and I ended up dating him for three days as a punishment. Up next: Grandma and Grandpa's fiftieth wedding anniversary almost ten years ago (also known as the day Mother found out she was pregnant for the fourth time and took everyone by surprise). Next: Christmas 1996, back to the good old days when Zeus Almighty would allow me to spend a few days during the holidays with Mother's family, and we decided to celebrate by dressing up as cowboys and cowgirls for some reason. It was one of the best ideas we've ever had. The next one is much more recent. It was taken last year apparently. All of my cousins who have children on their own are holding them in their arms and the little ones are so very cute dressed in their bear onesies and scarves that their grandmas had knitted for them (yes, Tethys and Oceanus are grandparents. They have four great-grandkids so far and keep asking their children-less grandchildren when they will have kids of their own. No one can escape it. Not even me). Then there's Mother and all of her sisters and sisters-in-law posing for the first ever sweaters they had knitted for someone's grandchild (they all took classes together, also to help them bond better. It's a tradition now every time there's a new baby in the oven). Then there's me and six-year-old Niobe in the corner of my parents' kitchen in their house in the Upper East Side dressed in our PJs, wearing pots as hats, and covered in a blanket which puppy Blanche ended up claiming as her own chew toy. Then there are my half-siblings, cousins, and cousins-in-law visiting Disneyworld in Orlando during my tour. There's that giraffe that kept sniffling everyone's hair, a random snake which we found very amusing for some reason, and me hugging Mickey tightly (we're the same height too, mind you), wearing Minnie ears and smiling like an idiot. Plus that one time we had sneaked into a Christina Aguilera concert, despite having bought the tickets for months in advance. But we mingled with the crowd. It wouldn't have been much fun if we had just entered via the VIP entrance and just sat on the chairs that the organizers were kind enough to provide us with. Oh, the perks of being rich, famous, and related to royalty!

My favourite though is the one we're currently laughing at. It's a picture of me, Astris, and her husband Hydaspes in Times Square during my tour, the day I had to be photographed for _Vanity Fair_ and _Life & Style _(a Greek magazine, something between _Vanity Fair_ and _Vogue_ ). They had asked me for an interview and a photo shoot, Zeus Almighty had forced me to do both, and Astris didn't want to miss the fun so she joined both photo shoots, which luckily took place on the same day in different places of New York. Let's start from the _Vanity Fair_ one. There I am, posing at the steps of the MET in a long sugar pink cape gown by _SANTARENA_ (they're a new fashion house based in Santorini, hence the name), and wearing my hair in a messy chignon and adorning the Rose Crystal Tiara, because when you do something, you gotta do it right. That's a silver and diamond tiara, which has the shape of messy rose leaves leading to a fully blossomed rose on the very front of the tiara, and with another diamond in the middle of the rose. Zeus Almighty had bought it as a wedding gift for Mother, but after they got divorced, it passed down to me. It's actually one of my favourites. The purpose of the photo shoot was to show me as this modern-day fairytale princess and we have the outtakes where Astris joins the fun in her blue jeans and 'I Hate Mornings' T-shirt, pulling funny faces at the camera and playing the ballerina on the stairs and I have to hold her so that she doesn't break a leg.

Which would be ironic since Astris is a Hollywood actress. But don't tell her I told you that. She likes to believe she's famous despite having me as her cousin.

As for the _Life & Style_ one, there I am, in the middle of the Times Square with all the cars passing me by, but I pretend not to care in my _Celia Kritharioti_ Grecian-inspired indigo embellished gown, posing at the steps and on the matching carpet. It was Astris' idea. My bodyguards loved her as you can imagine.

Mother, too, finds this story and our antics really amusing. But then we find a picture taken the same evening, when we all had to attend the same gala about the close cultural and business ties between Greece and the U.S. The draper guy in the tuxedo standing between Astris and me and who has a slightly darker skin than us, is Hydaspes. He's more fun than his name makes people believe.

"Only Astris could've found a guy like him!" I say. "A wealthy Greek-Indian, who's in the water industry. Very exotic!"

"You know your cousin. She went on a trip to India to shoot a movie, stayed for some self-discovery session or whatever and came back six months later to become an advocate for clean water and in the arms of a guy who makes a career out of selling just that!" She takes one more sip of her tea (she gave up drinking coffee ages ago), and adds: "She really liked the funny little hats and animal onesies you had bought for the baby, by the way. It was a nice change from all those blue outfits everyone keeps buying."

Oh, yeah, one more detail I forgot to mention. She's pregnant. She and Hydaspes dated for two years before they got married in May 2004. Long story short, they had two weddings: a Buddhist one in India (which was practically eloping since it was just them and a few good friends), then they travelled all the way to Britain where he was introduced to the big and great Oceanides bunch, and then - finally - they had another wedding ceremony, which was much bigger, better organised, and graced the society pages for a very long time.

Truly a wedding - and a couple - to remember, huh?

"When is she due?"

"In mid-February," Mother replies, setting her cup aside. "She keeps complaining that she wants to be done with it as soon as possible, before your grandmother drives her crazy with her endless advice and constant whining about how she should eat more!"

"I don't blame her. We are all very excited about the baby."

Suddenly, it comes back. The day of the abortion. I can still remember the stifling smell of medicine in the room, wearing the hospital robe, and convincing myself that it is the right choice. Even if I had run away at the last moment, Mother would've understood. But still. I had no other choice.

I feel a warm touch in my hand and I flinch. Mother is looking at me, worry drawn all over her face. She doesn't need to say it. I know that she can read my mind.

"Darling?" she utters instead. She has such a soothing voice... Like it is enough to heal all wounds.

"I'm fine." I realize then that I teared up a little. How stupid of me! I wipe them up immediately and Mother just takes my face in her hands and kisses my hair. Without saying a word, she holds me tight in her soft arms and doesn't say a word. Blanche whimpers and licks my fingers. It tickles me a little and I pet her. While I'm doing so, I further: "It's just... I wish I was with her now."

"You agreed to be the baby's godmother. Believe me, that's the greatest honour there is!"

I know that. Godparents in Greece are considered to be three times more important than your parents. Tradition has it that a couple's first child is baptized by their 'koumbaros', the equivalent of the Best Man and Maid of Honour. But, nowadays, it can also be a friend or a relative they get along with. That certainly applies to mine, although they come with a title. There's the Queen of the UK, the King of Spain, the then-President of Cyprus, and the Queen Consort of Norway. Her husband couldn't attend my christening that day, so she was the best shot. In the past, politicians would also baptize children to secure voters because of the 'family bond' that's created this way. I know for sure that Cronus and Zeus Almighty have also become godparents to numerous of their subjects' children, either because they happened to be born on the same day as them or because they might be the fourth child of their families. Well, that's one way to encourage reproduction I guess. Astris' son won't be my first godchild either. I've christened the oldest of the Dutch princesses and both daughters of the Prince of Asturias and his wife. Not to mention Lydia's niece or all those little girls born since 1998 that are named after me. So there you have it. Not only do we encourage baby-making, we also secure the future of our reign!

Whoever came up with this in the first place?

Anyway, I break the embrace, sit up, wipe the remaining tears off my eyes, and change the topic: "I forgot to ask... Where are you staying?"

Mother takes her purse from the coffee table, opens it, and reveals a key. She's still wearing her reading glasses: "Suite two-fifteen. It's not big but I can manage. I'll only need it to sleep and shower. I figured I shouldn't spend a fortune just for that! Besides, I'll be spending most of my time here with you. If I need to work, I can use your study."

She has done it before. She knows I won't mind one bit. In fact, I just can't resist teasing her just a little bit right now: "Well then, I'll make sure to give you the royal treatment!"

We laugh again but soon it's cut short because Lydia shows up. She's been in the study for so long, just trying to fit everything into my agenda. Two dinners may have been a little too much for me to ask, especially these days when we have to be on the road all the time. But now that Mother is here too, it goes without saying that I'll want to spend some more time with her!

"It is time for me to go," Lydia says, files in hands, purse on shoulder, and wearing an unbuttoned trench coat. "Your Highness, I have left your new agenda on the desk. Should you be requiring anything else, you know where to find me."

I tell her boringly: "Yes, thank you, Lydia."

She curtsies and turns to leave, but soon Mother stops her: "Lydia?"

"Yes?"

"I'd like to thank you too. For everything!"

"It's my pleasure!" Lydia replies with a smile. "Enjoy the performance at the opera tonight. Good night!"

"Good night!" Mother and I say concurrently.

You may be surprised that they're on a first-name basis, but I have gotten used to it by now. Lydia and Mother are old enough to be each other's sisters and they have known each other for almost ten years. It'd be ridiculous if they addressed each other as 'Mrs. Kalogrides' and 'Mrs. Oceanides'. Mother also jokes often that Lydia is the best replacement she could've found to play the mother when I need one. She's right, and Lydia has been doing a marvelous job and isn't going anywhere, but sometimes, you do need your own mother to take your hand and show you the way.

"Now," Mother adds. "You look like you need to go out. When was the last time you went for a walk? No engagements, cameras, seducing anyone, or igniting a diplomatic crisis. Just to clear your head."

I sigh: "To be honest, I don't think I can remember."

"Well then. I do believe it is about time you did just that." She pats on my lap: "Now, up! Up, up, up!"

She's putting on her shoes, but I can't help thinking how exhausted she must be too. "You look like you need some sleep."

She turns to look at me and smiles: "I can manage. I have to take care of you first!"

"There's no convincing you otherwise, is there?"

"Nice try dear! You know what, why don't we play the tourists? We haven't done that in a while!"

Just put on the largest sunglasses you own and the biggest hat you have, and you're good to go. Bodyguards in tow. Yup. We'll definitely go unnoticed this way.

Especially with Mother being such a big mystery to the world that it only adds to her fame and she's practically a living legend here. The closet thing Greece has to its own Diana of sorts.

Then I have an idea: "I'll ask the chauffeur to take us to Plaka." That's perhaps the most famous area of Athens after the Acropolis and it looks like it's straight out of a movie with its narrow streets made of stone and marble, Edwardian buildings, and ancient Agora nearby. Best part yet: the Acropolis is so close, you think you can touch it if you stretch out your arm! In the spring and summer, it's even better, when the sun is shining and the flowers are in full bloom. "We can eat some takeaway gyro on a pita. Nothing tastes better than it at five in the afternoon!"

Thank heavens I don't have any engagements to attend to today, except for the one I had this morning and the opera tonight.

Mother drops the smile: "It's very crowded there."

She says that because she worries about my own safety. But I'll be fine. I survived with Ares by my side and the bodyguards out of sight for almost ten hours and still, there I am, perfectly unharmed.

"It's early afternoon in December! Now that you have a pixie cut, it'll be easier for you to just conceal your face!"

Funny story, I was once thinking of getting a pixie cut myself. But then I looked at myself in the mirror and realized I love my hair long more than I believed at first. Plus, long hair makes for some amazing tiara hair and that's the best part about being a Princess, if you ask me.

I ask Anna to inform my bodyguards that I'd be requiring one of them with us. Mother dislikes having to do be accompanied by one at all times too, but she's nobody's fool. She knows the lengths we both have to go to go by unnoticed in here. It's easier in New York. Unless some paparazzi show up. Then the fun begins...

Still, she can't help commenting: "Oh dear! Remind me, while I'm here, to tell your father how claustrophobic it is to live like a bird in a cage!"

"He won't listen to you. You know what he's like. He'll lecture you about how important I am in the family and all."

"It doesn't matter. It's unhealthy!"

"I'm fine! The first five years are always the worst, remember?"

Ten minutes later, Anna comes back to tell us that everything is ready when we are.

Mother doesn't waste a minute. She puts on her shoes, dress coat, and belt. As I put on my own coat and boots, Anna comes back carrying sunglasses, scarves, and hats. She helps me wear mine, while Mother puts on her gloves and puts on her hat by herself.

Once we're good to go, she says: "Right. Time for me to become Greek again!"

"You say it as if it's a bad thing."

She scoffs: "Sometimes, dear... I think it is."

Trust her word for it. She has experienced first-hand how Greeks are treated abroad. But I don't say anything. Just hold her hand and walk through the fire escape with her.

Oh, one more thing I forgot to mention. Now that my bodyguards have discovered it after six years, and made sure to install security cameras they can trust, that's the only way for me to exit the hotel now.

I actually wonder if Zeus Almighty forbade them to use it on purpose. To see if I'd use it to my advantage, perhaps. Thinking about it, I am a bird in a cage.

But Mother can change Zeus Almighty's mind. Believe me, she's a miracle worker.

Besides, I think Father is still in love with her a little bit. That's why he can't deny her anything.

And to think, if he had treated her better, she wouldn't have divorced him, and none of this would've happened. So, at the end of the day, it's all still his fault.

Mother will just make him realize it. If she agrees to see him, that is.

* * *

 _Private Quarters, Royal Palace_

Hera closed her purse and looked at her reflexion in the mirror. She exhaled deeply. Perhaps she could fool the photographers and spectators tonight that she was in a festive mood. She had worn a silver embedded dress for the occasion. Yet the heavy makeup and perfectly coiffed hair did little to hide her exhaustion.

She should have expected as much. It had been a long day. She had spent hours overseeing the preparations for the New Year's Eve gala. At least she knew how that would go... They would stick to the same plan they had followed for years.

If only every single one of her problems were that simple!

She had hardly slept a wink the night before. Every time she'd close her eyes, even for a few seconds, she would have that dream again. There she'd be, in Ares' room, going through his things. She would remember that secret box under the carpet. She'd get it out, open it, and out would rush Ares' secret.

All those pictures of his own sister...

Had she done something wrong? She had raised them as royal tradition declared. Aphrodite was the future Queen and received the best education possible; Ares was the outcast and his parents - Hera mostly - had tried as much as possible to help him adapt to the royal lifestyle. She could see it in her son's eyes, he was grateful to them about the life and opportunities they had given him.

Still. Her and Zeus had made sure that all of their children would grow up to be as close as they could be. They knew that each had a personality of their own and that they often clashed. But what Ares felt for Aphrodite was sick. It was unhealthy.

And tonight, she'd have to stand her ground and keep herself together at all times. But the mere thought that those two would sit by each other in the theatre, the possibility that they might hold hands in secret or, even worse, that Ares would have his arm protectively over Aphrodite's back while they posed for the pictures outside the Greek National Opera before the performance made it worse. The glances they'd exchange, even for a few passing moments, the flashes of the cameras, the dark room, the forbidden love story of the play, that cover, their dance at the gala...

People would start talking. Unless they were already doing so. Sooner or later, the truth would come to light and the greatest scandal in the history of modern royalty would break out. It would earn global attention and, just like that, everything Hera had worked so hard for, all the pain she had endured and the tears she had shed due to Zeus' cheating and the means she had managed to hide each single one of his affairs from the world... She'd have failed. The republicans would ask for the Monarchy to be abolished. No one likes such stories. They're sick.

She and Zeus were the heads of the family. Zeus didn't know, thank goodness. She'd keep it a secret from him as much as possible. He already made fun of the newspaper covers and those pictures saying that the media would just come up with various stories. Aphrodite's press secretary had said that there were plenty of photos of the Crown Princess and the Prince dancing closely and those from the gala were just a drop in the ocean. His colleague in Their Majesties' service had declined to comment. Hera knew that their stance would only increase the gossip, but unless Ares and Aphrodite would throw fuel to the fire, the rumours would cease soon enough and be forgotten.

Until their next mischief. Then it'd be the same old vicious circle.

No, no. She shouldn't be thinking of such things right now. They'd draw all over her face and keep her from appearing genuinely jovial. No, there was another solution. She'd speak to Ares. That was the only solution all along and she shouldn't have postponed it for so long. But at least now she had something in her hands that would make him listen to her. She had taken a few pictures out of that secret box, placed them in a white folder, and kept them in her purse. Oddly enough, she felt that carrying them on her at all times was the only way to keep the secret from becoming known. She'd take them at the opera too. It'd only serve as a reminder to be done with it as soon as possible.

But she couldn't confront Ares about the pictures per se. It'd infuriate him, he'd shout at her, and he'd leave the room before Hera had had the chance to say a few words. She hated how her son's temper took the better of him and she despised herself for feeling so intimated by it every single time. She'd rather treat Ares as her favourite child. That way, he was annoyed at her overprotectiveness over him and he was kept from seeing the ways with which she kept the family as farther away from harm as possible.

No, she needed something more extravagant this time. Something that would make Ares listen.

She knew just what it should be.

Aphrodite's abortion.

She'd ask to see him, ostensibly to talk with him about... something that had to do with her obviously... His thoughts on Hephaestus? The gala? Their picture on the cover? Or something off-topic, such as... the weather? No, that never worked. How he enjoyed himself during the Christmas holidays? It was the perfect subject for a composition for children.

Or just plainly about Aphrodite. He'd come over. Call it fear, curiosity, or eagerness. This way, she'd make him listen. They'd be in her office. To make Ares understand she was the one in charge. Yes, it was a good plan. She'd tell him about the operation, but she wouldn't tell him who the child's father would be. After all, if she had kept the baby, Aphrodite must have been, what, four months along now? Five? Six? In any case, she'd have started to show.

If Hera was lucky, the baby would not have been Ares'. She'd figure it out by his reactions. Then she'd see what she'd do. She just kept hoping, wishing, even praying, that her suspicions wouldn't be confirmed.

Aphrodite had always been careful enough to protect the privacy of her lovers in her diary entries. She simply referred to them as 'il' - 'he' in French. So, it could have been anyone. Hera would use that to her advantage.

Suddenly, she heard a knock at the door. She jumped up, as if was she abruptly woken up after having a nightmare, and she turned to see who it was.

Zeus was standing by the door connecting their bedrooms. He, too, was fully dressed for the opera in his black suit and bow tie. He took a careful look at his wife. Since he had found out about Dione's arrival, he couldn't stop thinking about his ex-wife. How she must have changed since he had last seen her. If what he had heard over the years, whether in the press or by common friends of theirs, was true, then she had aged gracefully and was prettier now than she had been when she was young. The last time he had seen her was five years ago and she looked stunning back then. How much do people change in that amount of time?

But now, as he was looking at Hera in her knee-length couture dress and red shawl, he had no doubt that, at the end of the day, she was still his most deserving Queen. Dione had not been born for that kind of life; she enjoyed the privacy and the ability to make some serious change in this world, or at least that was how she saw it. Hera, on the other hand, looked like she was born to be a royal. She had been his rock without asking to overshadow him or undermining the royal status and the privileges that came with it; she had endured silently and, throughout their marriage, had only threatened him with divorce once, unless they had a fourth child. Preferably one that she'd give birth to. Dione had not given him a choice or a chance, expect for the fact that she had wanted a divorce and her demands for joint custody of Aphrodite. Perhaps it was for the better that she had not been his Queen then. After all, they were married for such a short time that most people don't even remember her as a royal at all.

He cleared his throat, as if that could keep him from comparing the two women, and he stepped into the room. He was smiling, but the look in his eyes scared Hera. Before he could compliment her and perhaps also flirt a little, she asked him to jump straight to the topic: "What happened?"

Zeus let out a long sigh. She could read him like an open book by now. There was no need keeping it a secret any longer: "Dione is here."

Hera looked at him with wide eyes, not changing her former expression. Then she took a step back, as if looking for more space. That was what she always did every time she heard those words. As if wishing to vanish or just hide. As if she was the one to blame for everything.

Zeus sat on Hera's bed and stared at the floor. He'd let Hera pace up and down the room as much as she wished, if it made her feel better. But instead, she walked to the armchair nearby and sat on it, facing her husband. Zeus had no idea what to make of it.

"She's not coming to the opera, if that's what you want to ask," he told her, raising up his head to look at her.

"Could Aphrodite have asked her to come all the way from New York?"

Hera knew that her arrival would complicate things, especially if Aphrodite was the one behind it. It might either have to do with Hephaestus or with Ares. After all, Aphrodite never kept anything secret from her mother, or so Hera had heard from all those servants gossiping.

Zeus nodded: "Perhaps. But this isn't the point." He stood up and began to pace up and down the room. He had brought his hand on his chin, thinking about his next words. Hera kept staring at him patiently, mind blank, as if trying to contemplate that unexpected twist in the plot. Finally, Zeus spoke again: "You know, my dear... I'm thinking about inviting her at the New Year's Eve ball. She is, after all, Aphrodite's mother."

Hera clenched both fists tight. All those years she had been trying to avoid that woman and now Zeus would invite her to the greatest occasion of Athens' high society?! But then again, it might be a way for him to keep a close eye on Dione. Find out her intentions, too, perhaps. That way, they could stop her from doing whatever she had had in mind when she had boarded that plane.

"If you think it's for the best, then I think you should," she replied.

Zeus stopped and faced his wife. He could never dream, not even in his wildest dreams, that Hera would accept to be in the same room with Dione, not when she could very easily avoid it. She must have had something in mind, surely.

"Really?"

"Yes. Now with Aphrodite's engagement and wedding, we will be seeing her all the more often. I believe we should get used to it. It won't be pleasant for either of us, but... No matter what I do, she's still your _ex_ -wife."

She had to remind Zeus that, at the end of the day, she was still his better half. For some odd reason, Hera's worst nightmare was Zeus leaving her for Dione again. She knew it was unlikely; even if he'd want it to happen, Dione would stop it. Over the years, she had made it clear in more ways than one that she had not regretted divorcing him. Still, the fear lingered.

"Good," Zeus said a little impatiently. He needed a drink. His hands were trembling. "Thank you. Excuse me."

He walked to the door, stopping only to touch her shoulder gently. She didn't touch his hand; she was too bitter for that and Zeus knew. He left immediately after, making sure to close the adjacent door behind him. Once Hera was left on her own, she stood up and walked up to the dressing table, on which her purse was resting. She opened it and took out the folder. She hated that she would have to do it, but she was left with no other choice. Dione had great influence over her daughter and her decisions, so the best Hera could do would be to try and use it to her advantage.

She'd invite her to a private audience. It would cause the servants to gossip, but better to them than Ares and Aphrodite. She'd speak to her about their children, ask her to put an end to it. Dione was smart. Much as she loved her daughter, it was impossible that she, too, would consent to their obscure affair. They had gone from friends to enemies; about time they signed a peace treaty and formed an alliance.

If someone had told Hera twenty years ago that that day would rise, she'd laugh at their face. But now, the tables turned and the rules changed.

The one thing Hera hated about Dione the most had been her ability to turn the page and move on with her life, never looking back or trying to change the past. Perhaps it was about time that Hera did the same.

After all, she'd never put an end to it unless she took matters in her own hands.

No matter the cost.

* * *

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

There I am again, getting all prettied up. Ever year on this day, the entire Greek Royal Family attend a performance at the opera or a play at one of the good hundred theaters there are in Athens. Yes, all of us. Including Uncle Poseidon, if he can keep his eyes open and refrain from snoring halfway through the show this year.

Actually, this is a very old tradition. It must be a good two hundred years old now. But, the Greeks love going to the theater and it's a good way for us to promote it. (Besides, it's very typical of people to fall asleep in there too, so Uncle Poseidon does do something useful for a change). Each single year, though, we go for a Greek play or operetta. Or, if it's not written by Greeks, then at least it is translated into Greek and played, directed, and produced by Greeks. We gotta promote our own country after all.

Last year, we had seen the stage adaptation of a 1960s comedy. That decade is considered as 'the golden era' of Greek cinema, with dozens of movies produced each year. It's a great way to learn about Greece back then. Plus, they are so well-loved by the people even to this day, that they're often broadcast on TV and quotes are also recited a lot. Ask Anna, she loves throwing random quotes from those movies at me and then she leaves me confused as I am to figure out which movie it is from and which legendary actor uttered it. Which reminds me, I did meet plenty of actors who had stared in those movies when they were young as well. They come with tons of stories to tell and they have the most amazing way of telling them. Tell you what, those people spent ages doing stage and cinema work, and they do know how to say a line. I won't tell you what play it was because I'll confuse you.

But the year before it, we had attended a musical satire. They call this theatre genre 'Epitheorisi'. The word means 'inspection' and it's a genre that I've only found in Greece so far. Well, simply put, imagine Saturday Night Live if it was a musical, more political, and had actually funny jokes in it. There's the 'host' and there are many different sketches, each one criticizing the government and modern society. As you can imagine, we, too, are a favourite source of inspiration. Our PR team thought that it would be a good... well... PR if we attended one of those and the actors hadn't missed a chance. They had kept turning to us halfway through the sketches, asking us tons of random questions, and one actor had even walked off stage, and up to us to 'interview' us. Apparently, I was the only one who had genuinely enjoyed it. Do not be fooled by the pictures of Zeus and Hera laughing and enjoying themselves! I heard the next day that they had had such a huge fight they were awfully glad they were sleeping in separate bedrooms all along.

That's why they decided to go with opera this year. It's good, it's fun, there's plenty of singing, no politics, plus we had fired the guy that had come up with that idea. Poor him. But, don't worry. I made sure Astris hired him as her PR advisor. Her mood swings are better than Hera's. Trust me.

So, now, my pretty-me-up team is here again, my hair and makeup are done, and my dresser is zipping up my dress and makes sure that everything is in place. Contrary to common belief, I decided not to give those journalists what they wanted. They kept whining over the fact that I had attended Hera's birthday gala in a Gucci gown. Well, now I'm in Chanel Couture. But, before you kill me just yet, my jewels were designed by Greeks. I'm wearing my hair in a curly half-up ponytail, secured in place with a diamond brooch, plus the small diamond earrings and huge faux pearls ring that I'm wearing. No bracelets. The dress has 3/4 sleeves, so those wouldn't do. But, don't worry, they have small silver details in the hems which can work just fine as a replacement.

What? Oh, sorry. Yeah, here's the dress: white, a little above knee-length (it's not exactly mini, but Thunder and Peacock will definitely see it as such...), a plunging neckline kept in place with a silver collar which basically goes around my neck like a foulard and keeping the shoulders of the dress in place. Plus a flowing double skirt, silver heels, My dresser describes those things far better than me but I keep forgetting the terminology all the more lately.

I know what's to blame. Please don't remind me. My mother's here.

She's actually drinking a cup of hot milk with honey and she's staring at me getting ready. It's funny. I remember the time when I used to watch her put on her makeup and do her hair before the mirror.

Man, I'm old...

No one's uncomfortable, though. My team has known her for years. They're so much at ease with each other, in fact, that Mother never hesitates giving suggestions and they listen to her. She might not show it in the way she's dressed, but she definitely knows a lot about fashion.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all, does it?

"Which play are you watching again?" she asks while my dresser keeps making sure for the thousandth time that there are no spots or anything on my dress. She even takes the lint roller again to remove Blanche's hair from me. Oh, the joys of having a Samoyed in the house... Dog hair ahoy...

" _Erotokritos ke Areti_ ," I reply. "Father's favourite."

It's actually the opera adaptation of perhaps the most famous Greek poem of all time. The original is called 'Erotokritos' and was written by Vitsentzos (as in 'Vincent') Kornaros presumably in the early seventeenth century. No one knows for sure. It is actually considered one of the most significant literary works of Greece, also in terms of language. It is written in the Cretan dialect of Medieval Greek and it might sound intimidating, but we can understand what it says. The poem consists of 10,012 fifteen-syllable rhymed verses, hence how easy it is to make a song out of it. Most Greeks have only ever heard it as a song in many different variations. From traditional Cretan to opera to rap to rock. In short, it's legendary and very versatile.

So, here's the much-anticipated plot. Pay attention. It's important. So, we're in ancient Athens and it's ruler, King Heracles, and his wife have a daughter, Aretousa (the 'Areti' in the title is a variation of that name and, fittingly, her name means 'virtue'). Erotokritos is the son of the King's trusted advisor. His name means 'he who judges/is judged by love'. Long story short, he falls in love with the princess, but due to his lower social status, he can't confess his love to her face-to-face. Instead, he tries the next best thing: every night, he sings under her window. Aretousa eventually falls for him too, but she has no idea who he is. One night, Heracles sends soldiers to arrest him (probably because he was singing during quiet hours), but Erotokritos and his beloved friend kill them. Erotokritos then realizes that his love for Aretousa won't end well and goes to a self-imposed exile in Chalkida, in Evia, that big island right next to Attica on the map. While he's away, his father falls ill and Aretousa goes to visit him. She sneaks into Erotokritos' room and finds a portrait he made of her and the lyrics to the songs he'd sing to her. She takes them with her and when Erotokritos returns, he finds that they're gone. His parents tell him that Aretousa had come to see them and was their sole visitor, and so Erotokritos, realizing that his life may be in danger now that the princess knows he loves her, stays at home and pretends to be ill. Aretousa though sends him a basket of apples to wish him well and that's when he realizes that she loves him too. But, trouble's on the way because Heracles organizes a jousting competition to find a suitable husband for his daughter. Now, I ain't the expert on history but this is an anachronism. There's no way there were jousts in ancient Greece! So, as you'd expect, many noblemen from all around the world participate and Erotokritos is declared the winner. (Talking of, someone should suggest that to Zeus Almighty. It'd be a good way for Ares to win my own hand in marriage...). Erotokritos and Aretousa continue to meet secretly under her window and she pleads with him to speak to her father and ask for her hand in marriage. In a very kingly manner, though, Heracles is furious that a pageant like him would dare ask for such a thing and has him exiled. Simultaneously, Aretousa receives a marriage proposal by the king of Byzantium (another medieval reference right there!). Aretousa and Erotokritos get engaged in secret and he leaves Athens. In the months and years that follow, Aretousa refuses to marry the king of Byzantium or any other nobleman in this case, and her father imprisons her and her faithful nanny (who has always had her back, like the one in Romeo and Juliet). Three years later, Athens is under siege and Erotokritos shows up again, but he looks completely different due to magic. He saves the king's life and gets wounded in a battle. Heracles is so grateful to the 'stranger' that he offers him his daughter's hand in marriage. Aretousa refuses and so Erotokritos goes to see her in her cell. He's presented to her as a stranger and tells her how he found Erotokritos dying in the woods, killed by a wild boar apparently, and his last words were about her. Aretousa falls to the floor and mourns her loss and then Erotokritos washes his face in front of her to reveal his true self. Aretousa falls into his arms, the king accepts the marriage, and Erotokritos becomes the next king of Athens.

I know, I know. Life imitates art. I just hope that Father Dearest doesn't get any ideas about imprisoning me as well, or else he'll have to face Mother's wrath. But we can keep the jousts. I've always wanted to be the lady all those knights would fight over.

Mother, however, sees it somewhat differently: "Ah! Honouring his Cretan roots this year, I see!"

I scoff but then my dresser comes to my rescue: "You are ready, Miss."

"Thank you!" I reply standing up. She just tidies up her things. Meanwhile, I approach Mother. "How do I look?" I ask twirling around slowly.

She places her cup on the bed and claps her hands once. That's a good sign: "Simply radiant!" Then, taking it again, she pops the question: "Will... Hephaestus be there too?"

I sigh. Of course he would be. He's Thunder's new favourite pet...

"Father persists that we make as many joint public appearances as possible so that we can fool people we're actually a couple." Mother nods. I face her and ask desperately: "Can't you come? I'm sure they sell some last-minute tickets..."

She flinches just a little, but doesn't lose her sense of humour: "I'm so tired, I might just go to bed very early tonight. But can you just imagine? Me showing up and stealing Hera's thunder!"

She throws a fist in the air and we both burst out laughing. I lean over to her and hug her. I know, white is a terrible colour to wear because it gets dirty out of nowhere, but Mother was careful enough not to spill the milk on me. I hear my dresser's footsteps getting louder and Mother whispering a 'thank you' to her before the door behind her closes. Mother now hugs me with both hands, so I guess the dresser took the cup with her.

"Thank you so much for being here!" I tell her once we're on our own.

"I had to." She breaks the embrace. I walk up to the mirror to fix what curls might have been ruined. Thankfully, everything's still in order. "And the fewer people know I'm here, the better. But, knowing them, the entire Greek royal family must have found out I am here by now."

I smile. Security around me has gotten so ridiculous that I need to have my mobile phone with me at all times. They're actually looking inside my purse to make sure I got it now. I don't like it either, but either I endure, or I go through yet another lecture about security presented to you by Zeus Almighty in all his glory.

Honestly, this guy has given so many lectures, he should become a professional. I know of some universities that are hiring...

That's actually a way for me to get rid of Athena, but I might as well use it on Father Dearest too. There, I solved his financial issues! No need to get me married. Now, where are my jousts?

"Will... Ares be there too?" she asks in English.

I stop on my tracks. I turn to face Mother. She's smiling softly. Thank god we're on our own in here at least! She gets up and approaches me. She leans toward the dressing table and crosses her hands in front of her. Time to get serious.

"Look," she furthers. "You know what I am going to say so I will spare you the trouble of having to listen to it. At the end of the day, he's still your choice. Just be careful not to break your own heart again, dear."

"I have a feeling that I might. I just don't know what to do with him."

She keeps on smiling: "You do love him, don't you?"

"He just..." I don't know how to put it. Mother and I have had lots of such conversations in the past, yet this time it feels so... different... "Every time I look at him, I feel like I'm discovering the world anew. I get shivers down my spine, butterflies in my stomach, and he makes me doubt everyone and everything, yet..."

She bents her head to the side a little. She's motioning for me to continue. I'll just let the words flow out of me. It's always easier to do so when you feel at ease with the person that's listening to you.

"I feel complete when I'm with him. Like he's been the missing piece from the puzzle. It's odd but... He makes me see everything so clearly, yet the more he does so, the more he confuses me. It's not that he's my brother turned lover. It's like I've been living in a cage and he's set me free, and I thank him for it but at the same time I'm so terrified, I want to come back."

"Is it the consequences you're afraid of?"

I scoff: "I wish I knew!"

Mother doesn't reply. For a few moments, she looks to the ground. She always does that when she's thinking. She crosses her legs too, one knee on top of the other. She's still in her Louboutins and she wants to get rid of them, I can see it in her eyes, but she's never barefoot when there are other people in the house. Even if those are working for us. When she looks at me again, she makes a completely unexpected question: "If Hephaestus and Ares were the only men on earth, who would you pick?"

"Je ne sais pas," I reply. It's better that I say this in French than in English or Greek. After Zeus Almighty ordered tighter security around me, I'm even more aware of eavesdroppers. "He's the adventure I long for, yet everyone says Hephaestus can give me the world and everything I've been looking for all these years. I can look past his handicap, but his family history makes me feel repulsed. I know what you'll say. We're royalty and incest has been the norm in our world for centuries. And now that Ares and me have committed something that most people will see as such, I don't..." I bring my hands to my face. "Gosh, I wish there was an easy way to describe your feelings!"

"You are repulsed by Hephaestus' background, but at the same time feel guilty about Ares," she replies in French.

"Something like that."

She nods. Then she switches back to English: "Lydia mentioned that you wish to invite Ares to dinner here."

"I can cancel it, if you'd like-"

"Oh no! I'd love to see him! Last time we had met was at your twentieth birthday party, I believe. I did see a few pictures of him in the press recently. He really is a very handsome man."

Indeed he has... Ever since he was a teenager. Except that now he knows he is and he can't stop using it to his advantage. And to think, he'll be sitting right next to me tonight! I'll have to try very hard to keep from touching his hand or from standing too close to him. It'd have been easier if the seating plan was different. Oh, why do we have to see that performance!

"Just be careful," Mother adds, letting out a long sigh. "He will make you cry yourself to sleep at night. You'll hate him for that. But you'll still love him even more."

I remain silent for a few moments, avoiding her gaze. Eventually, I say: "You told me once that our better half is the person we'd like to soothe us after a nightmare. That's how you knew Tantalus was the one for you."

"You were a child back then. I had to give you the simplest definition of love there is!"

I can't help chuckling at that. Mother has always been like that, trying to answer every single one of our questions, no matter how stupid they were. Once, I remember asking her why squirrels were called squirrels. Some twenty years later, Niobe asked her the same thing about penguins. We were children and the world was weird. Actually, it still is.

Mother furthers: "You're not me, though. You are far stronger than I was at your age."

That's not true... "At twenty-six, you were already divorced and a mother."

"But I was also more lost than you are now. I did put it behind me and reemerged like a phoenix rising from the ashes, yes. But it wasn't as easy as the media or the stories we tell each other make it seem. There were days when I didn't want to eat anything or talk to anyone. Sleepless nights spent crying and trying to see what I could do. My own mother had to hide all the cutlery in the house for fear that I might end up harming myself. You're not like that. To you, every day brings forth a new beginning. You may be confused now, but trust me, you know that everything will come into place eventually. Same with Ares and Hephaestus. You will figure out what to do about them. Unless... You have already."

I stare at her, as if her face will give me the answer to everything. Maybe I have. Or she has given me the answer. I did decide to take Ares as my lover and to proceed with marrying Hephaestus but... I can't. It won't be true to who I am. Hephaestus doesn't deserve to be treated so cruelly. Perhaps I haven't given him enough signs to send him running as far away from me as possible. And with Father pushing him towards me all the more, there'll he no escape. Rather, breaking his heart will be the only solution. But I have to be true to who I am and my heart belongs to Ares. Still, Hephaestus is my duty. Unless something occurs that will make the King change his mind, I'll never be able to escape him.

I am about to tell all this to Mother, but before I can say anything, the door opens. It's Anna: "Excuse me, Miss. Your car is ready." Then she turns to Mother, remembering that she is here too: "Ma'am."

"Thank you, Anna," I reply. "I'll be right there."

Anna curtsies and closes the door behind her. But two seconds later, it opens again. My dresser rushes inside and helps me put on my coat (a matching silver one). The new instructions from the Hellenic Royal Police now declare that I exit from the fire escape accompanied by a bodyguard at all times. It's what they do in the grand hotels I'm staying at when I travel all over the world. They always make sure I stay in hotels with underground parking, so that my car can wait for me there. But, what can I say, the Grande Bretagne doesn't offer this kind of luxury and the parking houses they cooperate with are... well... inconvenient for me. Thank heavens my custom-built Mercedes Benz is already heavy-armored, or else they'd have to issue a new one as well.

Two minutes later, I am good to go. Mother now has a big proud smile on her face: "I see you can finally remember her name!"

I figure I'll tease her back: "You know what they say. It takes an average of six years for us high-born people to find out the names of our staff!"

She laughs a little. Then she hugs me again. She'd have kissed me on both cheeks too, but she has to be careful not to ruin my makeup. "Enjoy yourself!" she says. "And do tell me all about it at breakfast tomorrow!"

We'll be having it here. Time for me to use the dining room. I pay for it, after all. "I'll see you at eight. Tomorrow is going to be a long day. I love you!"

She nods and then says: "I love you too!"

Isn't it wonderful how nice those four words sound when someone tells them to you in person? I did hear her utter them plenty of times over the phone, but it's not quite the same. Now, I can see the smile on her face, feel her rubbing her fingers against my hand, and I just missed it. With a little luck, I can persuade her to stay until the new year. We need some days to ourselves. When she goes back to New York, we won't meet again for months on end. If the inevitable does happen and I end up the wife of Hephaestus Petalas, then she, Tantalus, and my half-siblings will join the engagement and wedding celebrations. But still, I need to spend some more time with her. Our walk earlier today was enjoyable, but not enough.

I draw a deep breath. Right. Time to get the show started.

Oh boy...


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: OK so I have good news and bad news. The bad news is, this story is slowly coming to an end. Good news is... not yet. I have decided to make it a trilogy because otherwise I'd end up having 100 chapters or something and that's... a lot. I already have the title and the plotline (I'm not spoiling anything but it'll focus on the Ares/Aphrodite/Hephaestus love triangle more than The Scarlet Crown did). I don't know how many chapters of TSC I have left, but I know that I will include lots of Athena/Aphrodite in the future chapters. You've been warned :P**

 **Also, this chapter is cut in two to make it easier for you to read. I will update the second part soon!**

 **And remember: reviews are greatly appreciated :)**

* * *

 _24 December 2006_

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

Have you ever wondered what it's like to work for a royal family? I know what you'll say. You meet the person behind the name. You witness our daily routines and personal lives. You learn all about our pet peeves and eccentricities, see our good and bad sides, catch us on embarrassing situations even...

Well, yes. But no.

Let's start from the perks: we do offer days off, shifts, and good salaries. Senior members of staff, such as historiographers, aides-de-camp, private secretaries, PAs, heads of Household, chief ushers, royal doctors, jewelers, housekeepers, and security officers get paid the most. They even get to live rent-free at one of the three blocks of flats in the centre of Athens that the Crown provides them with. That means that they are owned by the monarch but the state pays maintenance costs. That's where Lydia lives. The rest of you, the maids, doormen, horse keepers, chauffeurs, butlers, engineers, electricians, pot-washers, assistant cooks, and gardeners...um... sorry, buddies. If it makes you feel better though, you and your close family live at the village in the Royal Estate of Tatoi. Or you can be like Anna and 'Ursula' and be a live-in. (Honestly, I'm so useless and unpredictable that I need tending to at all times.) Plus, you get to travel the world with us, both on official tours and on holiday. Think about it. You can visit places that other people can only afford to dream of and you're getting paid and you're spending time with us. We even pay for your hotel rooms for heaven's sake! (Actually, the taxpayers do, but they don't have to know). Now you know why it's so damn hard to be a royal staffer. You need a decent CV, a crystal-clear criminal record, and a friend or relative who's already working for us to throw in a few good words. The really grand jobs (see private secretaries) never land in the newspaper. People find out about them from word of mouth. This is not the case though if you want to be a maid etc. But the same rules apply in regards to the application.

Why? Because we need to be certain you won't kill us.

Pretty sure Lydia has come up with thousands of different plots to get rid of me over the years.

I'm kidding. I'm allowed to. She has known me since my late teens and I was far worse back then than I am now. Don't ask. Simply put, though, for a woman with no children, Lydia is doing a grand job mothering me around. Well, you have to spend your time somehow...

But, it's Christmas Eve, I hate having to work, and I've grown sick of seeing her in my study. So, we're in the living room, which is in full-on Christmas mode because Mother called the hotel managers yesterday and demanded that they decorated it to cheer me up. I got socks on the fireplace and a fully decorated Christmas tree by my piano for heaven's sake! Plus, we got nougat croissants and warm chocolates. No mint martinis while Dione Oceanides is around. I feel weird drinking in front of her. Snowing would be good, but it never snows in Greece. As for Lydia, she's sitting for a change instead of standing tall and firm in front of me. I know, I know, we broke the protocol and we'll be punished for our heinous sin but, hey, it's my little act of kindness! Yes, I did get her a gift too. It's bad enough though that she has to work on a day like this.

We're going through my speech for the New Year's Day broadcast. That's a televised speech I have to make for the whole nation to watch - and which I wrote myself, mind you. There's also the Christmas broadcast, but that is a live speech that the King gives from Tatoi. Zeus Almighty normally gives both speeches, but he thought it'd be good practice for me if I make one of them. So that basically means more details for me to go through and more workload for Lydia. Sorry, hon!

She's reading aloud the notes currently and she sounds normal. She's a good actress, I have to give her that.

"The opening credits are going to be various shots of the Royal Palace and the gardens with focus on the statues, the trees, and the marble fountain," she says. "Now, you said you don't want the Hellenic Royal Navy Band to play the national anthem live but instead they will record 'A Magical City' by Manos Hadjidakis. They agreed, although, I must say, the conductor sounded very surprised when I told him!"

"Just because the King does it every year, doesn't mean I have to as well!" I reply. "We need to keep it simple. We've already received plenty of backlash from the media after Hera decided to host all those receptions for Christmas and New Year's only a few days after her birthday. Besides, it's fitting. Athens is simply wonderful this time of year!"

The festive city lights, the gigantic tree in the centre of Syntagma Square (like the one at Rockefeller Center, only smaller), the sense of togetherness and love lingering in the air, families reuniting... Yup. It's definitely my favourite time of the year. St. Valentine's isn't even a real celebration to begin with, so I don't even include it in the list.

But, being a royal is a full-time job. And you don't always have the croissants to help you cope.

I take one from the platter and put it on my plate. I am about to grab a bite, but then Lydia asks me if there were anything about the speech I'd like to change.

"Yes," I reply confidently. "The person that has to make it."

Don't be fooled. It may be our time to shine, but no one wants to deliver such a speech. Have you ever spoken directly to a TV camera? Those things are terrifying! Plus, my future subjects have better things to do than listen to me, no matter how good looking I am. Besides, the Prime Minister and the Leader of the Opposition will give speeches too, so why bother?

Lydia, yet again, gives me that ice-cold, disciplinary stare: "Your Highness..."

"I can see the reason why I have to do it, but... do I really have to?"

"It's an indirect way to announce that you shall be left as Regent while Their Majesties will be in the U.S."

Oh, yeah. Knew I had forgotten to mention something. I'll basically be acting as the queen until Thunder and Peacock come back. Don't worry, I've done it before. The politicians will mess up and they'll be blaming me because they're (predominantly) male, I'm female, and men blame women for everything because that's what they do.

Meh.

I drop the croissant on the plate and hide my head in my hands. My head hurts. Great. Just what I needed...

Lydia is fiddling with her documents and then I hear a small 'thud', like she has just closed her thick folder. "Miss? Are you unwell?"

She's genuinely concerned. Have I gotten pale? I feel like I have...

"I'm sorry, Lydia." I look up and push my hair away from my face. "I should be very excited about the speech I've spent hours working on yet here I am, whining like a child..."

She throws the file on the coffee table. "Is this about the King inviting Mrs. Oceanides at the Christmas banquet and the New Year's Eve gala?"

Yes, he really did that. Lydia handed us the personal invitations this morning. Just for the record, the Christmas banquet is firmly restricted to family members only. It's actually more likely to become President of the U.S. than to spend Christmas with us. I'm serious!

"No. I had seen that one coming. They have such an odd relationship, those two, that nothing surprises me anymore."

Honestly. Most divorced couples with grown-up children don't want to see each other again except to attend each other's funerals. It sounds weird, but I truly wish my parents were like that. Instead, they have the oddest relationship. They don't talk to each other for months on end (years even), yet every single time Zeus Almighty cheats on Hera again, he begs Mother to cover up for him. don't know how she puts up with it. I mean... They divorced because he had had an affair with Athena's mother and with Hera at the same time, for heaven's sake! If you look it up on the Internet, it was a dreadful time for both of them with the scandal that ensued and Mother having to convince Cronus, Zeus, and the Parliament to be allowed joint custody of me. If I were her, I'd just kick him out. But not Mother. I've no idea why. To tell you the truth, I think she enjoys being Father's rock during hard times too. So, yes, I am a bit biased when I say that they must love each other still, even just a little. I mean they had me, for heaven's sake.

But turns out I may not be the only one who feels this way.

"Why on earth did Hera invite Mother to a private audience?" I ask Lydia. "Last time they were in the same room together, they avoided each other like the plague!"

Ridiculous as it sounds, Mother and Hera are actually the ones acting like your average divorced couple. They actually give Athena and I a run for our money. If anyone out there is listening, please, turn us into a musical comedy! Take us straight to Broadway! I can write the songs if you want. I've got tons of shade to throw!

"I'm afraid I don't know any more than you do. I was awfully surprised myself!" Lydia replies removing her reading glasses.

"Right," I say, taking another bite. "What's next on the agenda?"

Lydia puts on her glasses again and she removes the timetable from her file: "Your lunch with His Highness in Mrs. Oceanides' presence." Typical Lydia, always so true to protocol! She furthers: "The hotel shall provide you with a butler and he will arrive forty-five minutes early to go through everything. I have already informed your bodyguards about his arrival so that they can let him in."

"Who's testing the food this time?"

If you're daredevil, that's another job we're offering. Medieval as it sounds, we actually do employ food testers. Remember ages ago when I had told you that King Cronus most likely poisoned King Uranus because he wanted to succeed him already? Turns out he was afraid that someone else might do the same thing to him and he issued that the food should always be tasted before it's served. Hence why Grandmother Rhea chose to get rid of him by pushing for his abdication instead. She wanted him to witness his humiliation. Don't be fooled by her friendly-looking face and petite figure. She's actually a force to be reckoned with.

As for the food-testing, Zeus Almighty almost abolished it. But soon enough and he figured he'd better be safe than sorry. Antiroyalism runs deep in this country and I had nothing to do with his decision. For real.

"One of your security details has offered to do so," Lydia replies. The worst thing that can happen from a single bite is food poisoning. Good for them, though, they get a bonus and paid sick leaves for doing such an unhealthy job. "Now, about March, there have been some changes to the agenda. I have the memo here. It reads: 'More time for politics, less for charity'. The King's Private Secretary gave it to me this morning. And the Prime Minister has also asked for a private audience with you."

It's four months until I'm left as Regent and I already know what I have to do then. We actually plan everything up to six months in advance. Otherwise, chaos ensues. And we don't want that.

But if only the Prime Minister would understand I have other issues to deal with as well...

"I spoke with Mr. Kallinikos on the phone yesterday."

"He'd rather you discussed a few things face-to-face. Following the scandal with the illegal tapping the party leaders' mobile phones in October, he's trying to avoid phone conversations as much as possible."

That was actually a big issue back then. I was in the U.S., so I don't know the details, but my own security team feared my own phones may have been hacked too and so they destroyed all three of them. And the SIM cards. Within half an hour, I had gotten three brand new devices and about thirty different phone numbers (ten for each mobile phone). They wrote all numbers by hand, starting from the ones I was currently using, with three different coloured pens to signify which number was for which phone. Then, they delivered them to them in person. Two of my bodyguards actually had to fly back to Greece for forty-eight hours just to give a piece of paper to the Palace and the Parliament.

Action movie or what?

"The Make-A-Wish event takes place in February, we said?" I ask. Lydia nods. "Fine," I reply. "I'll see him right after that. I shall step into the King's office in my royal blue lace cape dress and the Rose Crystal tiara and I will be a vision!"

As always, Lydia is my ever-enthusiastic cheer-leader, staring at me like the strictest headmistress on the planet: "That's very... um... inspiring."

"Thank you!" I say teasingly. She had a wild youth too, back in the day. She'll never admit it while she's sober, though. "Good to know we shall be seeing more of each other during that time. How come you're not sick of me yet?"

She closes the file again, removes her reading glasses, and looks at me exactly like Mother does: like she's awfully proud of me. That's how you know they've been friends for a long time.

"Because every single day with you has more twists and turns than the best crime novel!" she replies.

I can't help smiling. Lydia had joined my team for the thrill and the adventure and I'm more than happy I can provide her just with that. And she ain't seen nothing yet. It sounds like a threat, but come on. I'd never harm her. She's too precious for me to get rid of. Remind me, as soon as the new year's in, to give her a raise. She deserves it.

She's putting up with me, for heaven's sake!

* * *

 _Meanwhile..._

 _Grand Salon, Royal Palace_

Both women felt extremely uncomfortable. They could hardly remember the last time they had found themselves alone in the same room, acting like grown-ups were supposed to. Dione had been stunned by Hera's request to summon her for a private audience and the shock still hadn't worn off. But she put on a brave face and kindly asked Lydia to inform the Palace she accepted the invite. For her daughter's sake.

Aphrodite's chauffeur had arrived in the vast gardens of the Royal Palace and stopped before the marble staircase leading to the side door. It was the one that the Royal Family, their guests, and the Palace staffers would use so that they could go by unnoticed. The main entrance was used only on official occasions. Dione knew the drill. A doorman, dressed as a civilian, welcomed her and showed her to the Grand Salon upstairs. He wasn't old enough to remember the time Dione was the future Queen and so he treated her the way he treated any other visitor. She was not surprised to hear her footsteps echoing in the room or to see that everything had remained just as she remembered it. Her last visit to the Royal Palace had taken place eight years ago, when she had attended the reception for Aphrodite's investiture ceremony.

Thinking about it, Monarchy hardly ever changed, unless it ensured its continuity. Princesses were allowed to become queens to make the institution look more feminist and modern; the old generation gave way to the young one, who was more approachable to the public; the world around them was changing with tremendous speech... Yet, here the royals were, stuck in a golden cage in the form of a lavish palace, holding on to tradition and hierarchy and living in fear that one of them might express their own opinions freely and destroy the only life they had ever known.

Dione was glad that she was no longer part of that world. But she was no fool. Thanks to her past, her family name, and the Gynae Foundation, she was still a public figure. She knew the power that scandals could have and that they could destroy the Monarchy overnight. Greece was deeply republican and sexist; her daughter would have a hard time as its first-ever female head of state. But that was a story for another time.

Hera had made no effort to make her feel at home. She had welcomed her at the Grand Salon, the most imposing room in the Palace after the ballroom, but had not offered her anything other than a glass of water. True to form, she did not waste any time on useless chit-chat either. Instead, she jumped straight to the topic. To make it easier for both of them, they spoke in English:

"I am aware that the King has invited you to our Christmas celebration. As I also know that there is some... unfinished business between us. Therefore, I would like us to form an allegiance."

Dione was taken aback by the request. She had been expecting Hera to warn her about Aphrodite and Ares' affair and to demand that she ended it immediately. But, she had to play the game by its own rules. Sticking to the protocol was a good start: "An allegiance, Your Majesty?"

"Are you surprised?" Hera replied, her back still straight as a bat and with an unreadable expression on her face. "The feud between us has gone on for long enough. I believe it is time we ended it."

"I must admit, this was unexpected." Dione folded her hands on her lap and crossed her legs behind the ankle. She could win the game only if she showed to Hera how easily she could have been in her position, had she not become Zeus' mistress and destroyed their marriage. That had been the cause for their long decades-long dispute in the first place. "It has to do with our children, doesn't it?" she added, staring into Hera's eyes.

"You must have surely heard of their-" Hera hesitated, thinking of a proper word. "-particular closeness. Surely you do not support such an immoral and disgraceful act!"

"Indeed, Ma'am, I am aware of it. You should rest assured that I do not like it either, least of all approve of it. Yet, unlike you, I know that I am not powerful enough to stop it. I trust that they are both old enough to know the consequences of their actions."

Hera dug her nails deep into the back of her palm. Convincing Dione would be harder than she had thought. But there was no other way. She was the only person that could talk some sense into Aphrodite. Either way, however, she'd talk to Ares. He had to know her secret.

"Mrs. Oceanides..." She leaned forward, although there was a big distance between them. "This is a very urgent matter. It may jeopardize the reputation and credibility of both our families and the future of the Monarchy."

"The institution," Dione interrupted.

"The Monarchy!" Hera pointed out. "Unless we become allies and try to end it, neither us nor our children will be on the winning side. Believe me, this is a state issue as well as a personal matter. There are laws to consider. Social norms. Morality, if you wish. Unless we play by their rules, we are doomed to fail."

Dione grinned. It was that enigmatic smile that Hera hated so much. Leaning back into her chair, the King's ex-wife said: "That always seems to be the case with you. The private has to become public. The personal can easily turn political. You are like a trapped bird in a golden cage. Strangers can glimpse inside and expect you to sing. It must be draining."

"Please, do not change the subject."

"I do not. As a matter of fact, I rather admire you. All of you. You may not like the tune, but you dance to it because you have no other choice. You are afraid to step a foot wrong because you fear it might not fit with the rhythm of the music. You hold on to that dance as if your lives depend upon it. It's the only way you can keep the crown on your heads."

Hera was not in the mood to solve riddles and to interpret metaphors, however: "The Crown Princess, however, seems unwilling t-"

"The Crown Princess has danced to your tune perfectly all these years," Dione replied raising her voice. "She may have misstepped occasionally, yet she always remained in accordance to the rhythm. If you take a closer look, neither of us really dances as instructed. The only difference is that she is able to cover it perfectly with her gracious movements. She is not stupid enough the peace she finds in it to jump off a dangerous cliff!"

Hera knew what Dione meant. She was criticizing them for sticking to the rules, yet accusing them of not playing by them. She was covering for her daughter, claiming that she never really put the Royal Family's reputation and future in danger. Little did she know... "Past experience has shown otherwise."

The Queen was prepared to intimidate Dione if she had to, although their audience could only last for a few more minutes. That woman had not changed at all. She was still stubborn as a mule and an irksomely shrewd negotiator. It was obvious Aphrodite had taken it from.

"You may think so," Dione added. "But at the end of the day, she did not jeopardize the future of the Monarchy. On the other hand, I know quite a few examples who did the institution more harm than good."

Hera understood what she was playing at. Dione thought to use their story with Zeus as a trump card. But she was not willing to let her win: "We cannot undo the past."

"Precisely," Dione said calmly. "You also ought to understand that you need the future to survive. My daughter embodies progress. Being kept in the past terrifies her. Yet, if you set her free, she can shine."

"Progress... Shine..." Hera repeated bitterly. "Do you honestly believe that such... obscure... relationships between family members shall be the norm in a few years?"

"I never said so, Ma'am. What the Crown Princess and the Prince do is shameful, I agree. But I do not have the right to stand in the way of her happiness and neither do you. Our children are stubborn. It is our duty as their mothers to let them make mistakes. This is the only way they can learn. Besides, we cannot be certain that the Crown Princess and Mr. Petalas won't divorce eventually. If that happens, it will cause a scandal you will be unable to cover. Plus, it will also bring back unpleasant memories to both of us. Are you indeed willing to take the risk?"

Hera remained silent. She did not want to admit openly that she was also certain that Aphrodite and Hephaestus would be married for only a short amount of time. But if that was a way to keep Ares away from her, then so be it. Dione knew Hera's plan. She could see it in her eyes. Yet, she wouldn't leave until all her cards had been dealt first.

"I take it, Ma'am, that you remember your godmother, Mrs. Tethys Oceanides," Dione said with a new-found sense of confidence. Suddenly, she felt like she was in control of the situation and she loved that feeling. "She took you in after your mother's tragic and premature death. She treated you like her eleventh child, teaching you how to be elegant, stylish, graceful... One could say, she turned you into the Queen you are today. But when she found out about you and the King, who was my husband then, she was crushed. She screamed in your face that she never wanted to see you again. Fifteen years later, she held your hand at your father's funeral. That simple gesture said what words couldn't. You haven't seen each other since, but she still worries about you. In fact, she blames the King for making your life miserable."

Yes, Hera could remember her. Her and Oceanus had treated her better than her own parents had done. She and Dione had grown up like sisters. In fact, she had turned down Zeus' marriage proposals twice out of guilt. It didn't feel right. But it was too late for regrets now.

"What is the purpose of the story?" she asked coldly, staring into Dione's eyes.

"You also knew that becoming the King's mistress was wrong. Yet, here you are. We all make choices that we hope will make us happy. Some call them mistakes, but no one really knows what the other person feels or how they think. As for our children, you may wish to end their affair, if you so wish. But I fear that they are too enthralled with each other to care about the rest of the world. We both know what being in love feels like. After all, we fell for the same man. We took a chance. For me, it proved a mistake. I wouldn't have known unless I married him. Neither would you. We put our personal happiness first. Did we care about the effect it would have had on the Monarchy? I don't think so."

Hera's throat suddenly felt dry. She hated how Dione was right. Again! She had also made it obvious that she still could not forgive her for everything that had happened between them. Perhaps if Metis had married Zeus instead, Dione and Hera would have still somehow managed to be friends. But she was gone, leaving Athena behind. The past could not be undone.

The grandfather's clock in the corner began to chime. It brought Hera out of her lethargy. Clearing her throat, she stood up. Dione followed her lead. With a surprisingly calm voice, she said: "I believe our ten minutes have passed."

At once, she rang the bell. The doorman entered, bowing his head.

Dione curtsied. All those years of mingling with royalty (she still counted a few foreign royals amongst her closest friends) had made her an expert in protocol and proper behaviour.

"As you wish," she said before walking up to the staffer.

 _Well, that took long enough_ , Dione thought while he was accompanying her outside. She'd exit from the back door again. However, she was not relieved. Their discussion made her realize that she had lots to do. She had initially thought that Zeus would be her biggest enemy in her attempt to get Aphrodite out of that mess. For better or worse, it turned out to be Hera. She would have to find a way to free Ares and Aphrodite of her claws. By the looks of it, she'd try to keep them apart with all her might.

She did not have much time. She had to protect her daughter. As for Ares, he'd have to rescue himself.

She could not afford to pull him them both out of the mud.

* * *

 _A while later..._

 _Diplomat's Hall, Royal Palace_

Mother and I didn't cross paths at the Palace. Instead, we did see each other at the Suite. She stormed in, shaking all over, and asked for a very strong gin and tonic - the strongest one she could be provided with. Uh-oh... Mother is not a big fan of alcohol. Don't look at me, I inherited it from Zeus Almighty. But when you see her drinking before noon, it means she's very upset about something.

In this case, it doesn't take a genius to find out what it is...

I didn't force her to tell me, although I'm dying to find out what happened. They certainly talked about me, but what exactly did they say? Was my abortion or Ares mentioned? Does Mother suspect something is off? Or did they talk about Father Dearest and everything that happened between them twenty years ago? What happened?!

I shouldn't be thinking about this now. The world is watching.

Christmas is one of the few times of the year where the doors of the Royal Palace open to the public. Every day from December 23rd to January 2nd, at ten o'clock precisely, the entire Royal Family gathers to the Diplomat's Hall to welcome the many choirs that will sing the carols for us. It may be symbolic but guess what. The curtains there are drawn too for a change! Still, the room is huge, so all the lights are on as well because, well, daylight doesn't light up this place much.

So, those choirs represent clubs from various parts of Greece (complete with the traditional costumes and musical instruments of the area they come from), organizations, institutions, and even charities that we support or represent. You'd normally think, Greece is a small country, so there can't be too many of those. Right? Well... Wrong. If I were you, I wouldn't even try to count them. I'd never finish. Trust me.

Today alone, we get to welcome three different choirs. We have already heard the one of the Hellenic Royal Police, all adults, all male, and all in their formal uniforms and donning the medals that they received for their dutiful service to King and Country. Then came a small choir representing children with Down syndrome (which is one I support). Currently, we are listening to that of the Scouts of Greece singing the carols for us, accompanied by a rather imposingly-sounding drum. They, too, were dressed in their uniforms. The little ones were in their yellow shirts and khaki pants, with a white-and-blue striped neckerchief over their shoulders and khaki hats. The teens of the bunch wore the same, except that their shirts were a lighter shade of khaki.

As for us, we are gathered here to admire them. Everyone, from Thunder and Peacock to Triton and Rhode, is standing right across from them. I am standing right next to Zeus Almighty, who's between me and Hera. The rest - from Ares to Rhode - are right behind us. Everyone else - the choirs that have already sung and the parents of the scouts - are kept at a safe distance from us. We try to act as if we're not conscious of the cameras around us, but we are not very good at it. TV crews from all the national channels and reporters from every single newspaper are in the room and their cameras can't stop flashing. They are all gathered together in the corner, so that they won't disturb us. Good for them, they do follow the rules for a change.

They are half-way through the song and I keep smiling at them, but I cannot resist the urge. Covering my mouth with my hand, I lean towards Father Dearest and whisper in his ear: "I know about you inviting Mother over for Christmas."

He looks at me as if he suspects I know a lot more than I should, but then Hera clears her throat. It's her way of asking us to stop talking. I turn to look at the children again, giving them the kindest smile I can muster. Needless to say, Ares and I still try to avoid each other at all costs. But he's standing right behind me and before I realize it, his fingers are tickling the low of my back. I flinch and bite my bottom lip, trying hard not to laugh and then I give his hand a gentle slap. It's not enough to stop him, though. He keeps it up as if he has every right to. As if we're on our own in that abandoned house again... I bite my lip harder, trying as much as I can to keep from laughing.

I give up. He continues his teasing unabated and I can hear his chuckles too. I know that all of our relatives are staring at us, thinking that we're our stupid little selves again, but I cannot help it.

Why does he have to be such a big tease?

One of the scouts does give us an alibi, though. He's about five years old and one of the youngest members of the choir. They are singing the Greek version of Jingle Bells but he doesn't seem very thrilled. So, to make things more interesting for him apparently, he raises his hands in the air and sings like that for a few moments. Then he stands on his toes and blushes, like he's trying to stifle a yawn. I chuckle and then look over my shoulder. Ares is smiling too. As soon as he notices me, he winks at me. Great, now look at me blushing... I look at the children again. The young boy now has maintained his 'formal' posture but still looks rather bored. I know the pain, buddy.

The song eventually ends and they all shout: "Merry Christmas!"

We wish them back but we make a worse choir than they do. Without wasting a second, Zeus Almighty walks up to them for a small photo session. He even teases them, asking one boy to give him his hat. The poor ones, you can tell they're uncomfortable!

Ares takes the chance to walk up to me but we don't speak. An aide is walking up to us, handing us the good luck charms we're supposed to hand out to the children as gifts and we walk up to them. Some of them get excited and the little yawner is also bold enough to hug me as soon as he sees me. I tease him that he reminds me of myself listening to speeches when I was his age and he has that stupid starstruck grin on his face. Then I proceed to give the little ones their gifts and to shake hands with the teen singers. The rest of my relatives, from Princess Athena to Queen Rhea, follow suit, while the conductor is presenting Zeus and Hera with a gift from the Scouts to the King. This gift-giving session is a long-standing tradition.

All throughout, I can feel Hera's piercing stare on me, like she would've loved to set me on fire if she could. I guess she saw the wink, then. But I don't care. After all, she brought it on herself.

* * *

 _Cronus and Rhea's Palace, Psychiko, Nothern suburbs of Athens_

Hestia stared at her watch. The twenty minutes had passed. Any second now, her father's private secretary would show up tell her that 'His Majesty would see her now'. She was nervous, which made her feel ridiculous. For heaven's sake, she was sixty years old! She was no longer the little girl holding her Nanny's hand tight and dreading the moment that she'd be summoned into her father's office for yet another criticism that she was not good enough!

But now she could not back down. She had summoned up the courage to ask her father for an audience and she had been granted it. She kept reminding herself that she was doing it for Rhea's sake. Her mother may have been appearing cheerful to the public, but as soon as they were left on their own, she continued to get lost in her own little world, saying things that did not make much sense, and being awfully absent-minded. Perhaps Amphitrite was right to suspect that she may be suffering from depression. Hestia hoped that it wasn't something worse like dementia. Despite her energy and youthfulness, Rhea was still in her eighties...

As for her father, his behaviour had also made everyone suspicious. However, they all felt relieved not having to face him at all this year, although no one dared to admit it openly. Not even Poseidon, who had always found it difficult to keep his mouth shut. Yet, it was very unlike Cronus to turn down every opportunity to show up in public. First, he refused to attend Hera's birthday gala, then the photoshoot, and then every single Christmas celebration that they were planning - including the New Year's Eve banquet. Her secretary had informed her of the latter shortly after breakfast. On the one hand, she was glad, for she wouldn't have to worry about Rhea crying herself to sleep at night. But on the other, she was also worried about Cronus. Despite his cruelty, he was still her father.

Coming here was one of the hardest decisions she had to make, but she had to do it. Besides, she was the only one of her siblings that was still calling to see how Cronus was doing. She was, after all, the most thoughtful, compassionate, and patient of Rhea's children. As was Hades. Except that he, too, had also long left their father to fend for himself. Just like Demeter, Poseidon, Zeus, and their spouses and children.

She had kept her visit a secret from everyone, even Demeter and Amphitrite. As far as they were concerned, she had gone to see some of her friends after the carols at the Royal Palace were over. During the twenty-minute drive from the city centre to Psychiko, she kept telling herself that she was doing it for Rhea. As if that would miraculously make her feel better about coming here...

Opening her purse, she took out a small blue box with a white ribbon. Her gift for her father. Golden cufflinks carved with his initials. It'd be her way to soothe her stubborn father and to make her explain himself. It wasn't going to be easy and it would end with her being upset and him furious. That would happen every time they'd meet. She couldn't expect the dog to learn new tricks now.

At long last, his Private Secretary showed up. Even though she knew she looked impeccable, Hestia fixed her jacket and straightened her skirt. The door to her father's study was closed.

Thanking him, Hestia stood up. It had been the same old, boring and predictable routine. For as long as she could remember, Hestia had always had to wait outside her father's office (first at Tatoi, then the Royal Palace), holding her sister's hand and waiting to hear those dreadful words. She had expected to be less nervous at sixty than she was at sixteen, yet the only thing that had really changed was that now these words actually sounded all the more ridiculous. Cronus did have the right to still be referred to as the king. After all, he had been the monarch once and keeping his title was an act of respect. But his refusal to insist that he was still the sovereign was pathetic. In fact, thinking about it, that was precisely the reason his relationship with his children had fallen apart. Now, Hestia and her siblings simply tolerated him and would visit him mostly out of duty than genuine concern.

When she stepped into his office, she remained standing by the door and curtsied. Cronus was already facing her, dressed in a dark blue suit, a burgundy tie, and a white shirt. He was even wearing a heavy ring that his own father had given him, what used to be a sign of authority and that, according to Cronus, would pass down from patriarch to patriarch. Hestia believed that the rightful owner of it had been her brother. But neither she nor anyone could tell Cronus that.

Her father smiled widely while he was walking towards his daughter to kiss her on both cheeks and greet her properly. True to form, Hestia let him speak first:

"My beloved daughter!" The way he uttered those words alarmed her. "I hope you are well."

"Indeed, Father. How about you?"

He looked pale and thinner than the last time Hestia had last seen him eight months ago. Perhaps even longer. But that didn't matter. The mystery had been solved. He had turned down every single one of Zeus' invites due to illness. But why couldn't he tell them sooner?

"I am doing perfectly. Please!"

He showed her to a chair and she sat on it, as always with her ankles crossed and her back straight as a bat. As propriety and etiquette demanded. Hestia then remembered the little blue box in her hands: "I would like to give you this." Cronus watched as Hestia placed it on the coffee table between them. "I know it is not the proper thing to do during an audience. But it is Christmas Eve."

"As always, it was very considerate of you!"

He didn't take it. He started to cough again, uncontrollably. Hestia panicked when she saw the red spots on his handkerchief. So, it was nothing like the fever or the bad cold that she had been suspecting for so long. It was something worse.

She had better not ask what.

As soon as Cronus calmed down, he put the handkerchief back into his pocket again and resumed his former posture: "Now, is there anything I can do for you?" he asked.

Hestia decided to cut to the chaste. The air in here was stifling. The briefer their audience would be, the sooner she'd go back to Tatoi. "In fact, Father, I came because I was worried. For the first time since..." She wanted to say 'your abdication' but Cronus despised that word. Instead, she prompted for another wording: "Well. For the first time in twenty-three years, you have turned down Zeus's invites, both to the Christmas dinner and the New Year's Eve gala. Is it because of Mother?"

Cronus stiffened and coughed. Ostensibly, to clear his throat but soon, it got more intense. He removed a white handkerchief from the inner pockets of his jacket and he brought it to his face. Then he stood up and walked by the window. Hestia tried to hide her disdain and disgust at hearing him spit yet she couldn't help watching as he took a careful look at it, shook his head in dismay, and put it in its place. Hestia couldn't help spotting some red marks on it. Like blood... It was the perfect opportunity for her to pop the question and she didn't waste a minute: "Father, are you ill?"

She felt shivers down her spine by the way Cronus looked at her next. Never had he glared at her with so much shock. Soon enough, it was replaced with anger. He clenched his teeth but suddenly, as if remembering his place and the rules of proper etiquette, he turned to the window again. That sight would terrify Hestia when she was a little girl. Every time her father would look out of the window, arms crossed behind his back, and not say a word for thirty seconds, it could mean nothing but trouble. Hestia started counting them in her head. Ten, eleven, twelve...

Then he spoke: "I believe our time is up."

Hestia decided not to make it any harder for herself. She stood up and curtsied, even though her father wasn't looking at her anymore. She even rang for the doorman herself. He entered, bowed to them both and Hestia turned to leave. Protocol declared that she did not turn her back to the monarch while he was facing her, but now that he had turned his back to her, she was allowed to see where she was going. Yet, before she left the room, she turned to him one last time, for one last curtsy. Once more, he had brought the handkerchief to his lips and kept coughing loudly. It worried Hestia. Never had she seen her father as weak as that.

She would have to tell her siblings. Especially Zeus. By the looks of it, Cronus' health was declining fast. His death would very likely change the Royal Family to the core. Aphrodite still remained more popular than the King and the Queen, despite the rumours and the trouble she caused. The Parliament might force Zeus to abdicate eventually.

Cronus may have wanted to keep his illness a secret, but Hestia didn't care. Families should talk about things, no matter how unpleasant they were. Hestia was certain that, despite her siblings' disdain of the former King, they could all agree on one thing: they would have to take care of him.

It was cruel that they did not visit him more often. Leaving him to die alone would be simply inhumane.

He was their father, after all.

* * *

 _1:30 PM_

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

This must be the most awkward situation I've found myself in since the night I lost my dress at that nightclub. I don't even know what I was thinking when I told Lydia to invite Ares over for lunch or why I didn't persuade Mother to let me cancel it. I feel like I'm starring in an American rom-com full of clichés. You know, the ones about an upcoming wedding and the in-laws-to-be not getting along at all.

But, good for me, there are a few major changes in the plot this time. Mother, for instance, is not a depressed suburban wife but a strict business executive who's wealthier than the King himself. Ares and I aren't engaged either because I'm already promised to another man. But Hephaestus hasn't met my family yet. No, the gala doesn't count. Everyone knows the Royal Family...

Don't tell Zeus Almighty. He might organize a banquet just for Hephaestus to get to know each and every single one of his future in-laws. And I'll have to explain to him who's who.

Oh, gosh, why do I have such a large family?

Ares does spare me the trouble, though. He has already met Mother, Tantalus, their children, and my maternal grandparents more than once. Still, though, it does feel like he's meeting the family. Even the butler seems to think so. I can see it in his eyes. The poor man is coming in and out of the small adjacent kitchen to serve the food and make sure our glasses remain full with that look of astonishment drawn all over his face. It might as well be Mother's famous charm, but that is not the point.

We're having grilled cord with smoked vegetables, complete with an appetizer and dessert. Yes, all three of us. Figured it'd be better if we all just had the same. Thankfully, none of my guests seem to mind. Mother has barely touched her plate. She looks alarmed and occasionally crosses her arms on the table, especially when she wants to ask Ares something. As for him, he's totally speechless. Honestly, I've never seen him so overwhelmed in my entire life! Well, I don't blame him. I'd be the same way if my boyfriend/brother invited me over for some quiet lunch and suddenly his mum shows up. Let's just look past the fact that his mother is Hera for a moment.

Ew...

I guess I know what he's thinking about. That my mother, who's sitting between us, is not only my double but also the woman that could've been queen had Zeus Almighty not divorced her. How different things would've been then... Ares and I wouldn't have to keep our affair a secret from everyone, the Greek Royal Family would've been awfully rich (one of the richest in Europe, in fact, thanks to the Oceanides family's wealth), and I would never have found myself engaged to Hephaestus. In short, Thunder's to blame for everything.

But Mother doesn't need titles to be known and respected. The Greek media often talk about her work with Gynae Foundation and everything she has achieved. Both liberals and conservatives, monarchists and anti-monarchists love her because she's timid and doesn't sell stories about the Greek Royal Family to the press. Neither will she ever write an autobiography about the two years she spent as the Crown Princess. Even when you meet her in person, she's a bit of an enigma. You have to know her well to decipher her body language. And I do know my own mother. She's being circumspect about him.

Still, Ares is trying to act like everything is normal. He's being polite, which is a bonus, and he's trying to answer to each and every single one of Mother's questions in the best way that he can. He's dressed in his best suit (the dark royal blue one Anna bought for him while he was staying here, by the way) complete with a white shirt, a red tie, and black shoes. Dressed to impress the family, huh?

So far, we've been talking about Christmas in New York and how much Athens has changed since the last time Mother was here eight years ago, at my Investiture ceremony. That was also the last time she had seen the Royal Family and her presence alone was enough to make headlines. Plus her visible baby bump which she wasn't even trying to hide. Before you know it, we'll be discussing food. I had suggested that we spoke in English to make her feel at home but she persisted that, as long as she's in Greece, she has to speak Greek. She does have a strong accent though, and she stammers on a few words, but other than that, she's still fluent and doesn't make any mistakes. Good for us all, my maids have been dismissed. They have taken the rest of the day off, but Anna said she'll come back again in the afternoon while I'll be getting ready for the Christmas Eve gala.

I need to stop changing the subject every time I feel uncomfortable...

The butler walks into the room again with a freshly opened bottle of wine. He's going around the table and he refills our glasses. I ask him to fill mine some more. Truth is, I've never felt more grateful about alcohol in my entire life! No one speaks while he's here but even after he goes back into the kitchen, the only sound in the room is that of cutlery scratching the dishes, us chewing or gulping, and the music playing in the back. If we were a rom-com, the soundtrack of the scene would've been dramatic. Instead, it's random Christmas songs and an annoyingly cheerful radio presenter. That's what you get for being traditional...

Mother is cutting her fish very carefully and gently, as if she's about to operate it. She cuts a piece, but as soon as she pierces it, she clears her throat and cuts to the chaste: "So, Ares. I am aware that you are serving at Alexandroupoli."

Hang on. Things are about to get interesting.

Ares is putting down his glass of wine and replies: "That's right, Mrs. Oceanides. I have been made a Lieutenant recently. By my general, not the King!"

Mother nods in understanding twice. That didn't impress her much. I rush to explain: "Ares is very proud of the fact that he's earned his title on his own merit instead of birthright."

Mother admires and respects people who work their way to the top. That's why she despises the world of royalty so much. Everything there has to be given to you either because of the family you happened to be born into or thanks to who you married. I suppose you could call her an anti-royalist in that sense, although I don't know if she's against the institution of the Monarchy altogether. Remember, the Oceanides and the Olympios families used to be good friends and she still hangs out with royalty. No, I don't count as such. I'm her daughter, for heaven's sake!

"Well, that's admirable, indeed," she replies, much to my relief. "My husband also happened to serve there, you know. In the late 1970s. He likes to look back on that time and he fondly recalls that time with his friends. He confessed to me once that the Army made him the man he is today."

Ares is flattered. He's smiling proudly and he looks at me for a few seconds. I bring the napkin in front of my mouth to hide my grin. Thank god, he's not whistling inappropriate songs this time!

"Well, it sure is a very interesting place!" he says eventually.

"And what would you like to do afterward?" Mother asks. "I do not believe that an ambitious and capable man like you would like to be stationed at the same base for the rest of his life. I can tell you are after adventure."

"I would like to serve at the borders. We're surrounded by countries that follow expansive policies and this is the only way I feel I can serve my country to the best of my abilities. But, I am afraid the King won't let me. Security concerns, you see."

Mother looks down at her dish and grins. She cuts another piece of her fish. "I presume it is also difficult for your parents. It is not easy for a mother to have her only son away from home, where she cannot rest assured that he is away from harm."

Is that... Is she really making innuendos about us? Ares and I exchange a few worried looks. He doesn't know that Mother knows about us. But don't worry, she's still on our side.

She furthers: "I have two sons myself. Pelops and Broteas. They're teenagers."

I join in: "My brothers are also very independent."

"Yes, sometimes more than they should be," Mother adds. She drops the cutlery on the plate. Holding her glass, she leans back on her chair and looks straight at Ares: "Aphrodite told me that you happened to cross paths in London. During her tour."

Oh... So that's why she persisted I didn't cancel it! Ares looks at me again and I clear my throat to warn him. He ought to hold on tight. She means business.

"Yes," he says, trying to sound calm. "At a nightclub."

"At Chelsea, I know," she replies. "But what I found very interesting was the fact that you were there as well. I hope you wouldn't mind telling us how come?"

Ares sits straight on the chair. He, too, has stopped eating. "A few good friends of mine dragged me along, actually. They had talked about doing the round of the UK on motorcycles for years. I had a few days off and hardly any engagements to attend to, and so I decided to join them. We flew to Edinburgh and rented our Harleys there. Over the next two weeks, we drove all the way to Southampton. We didn't get to visit all the places on our list but still, it was a memorable experience. Especially London!"

At that, he looks at me and I have to look down again to avoid his gaze and to hide my grin. I could see that coming!

"Yes, I can imagine it was...," Mother whispers under her breath. She brings her glass close to her lips and takes a sip. "And how long did you stay in London?"

"Three days. We wanted to see the sights."

He sounds too confident for his own good... Am I blushing? I do feel like it...

Mother nods slowly and she grins too. Good for her, she hasn't even turned to look at me! I think I know now what she's playing at... She's definitely smart enough to have put two and two together with dates and things... Plus Hera must have certainly told her about the abortion. Why else would she have invited her to a private audience? Oh, dear, she's trying to figure out if he was the father...

I chime in, eager to change the subject. We had better have that kind of conversation after the butler has left and I am certain that there are no prying ears around us. Butlers are usually trustworthy, but this is still a very personal matter.

"The fish is delicious!" I say, pretending to sound cheerful. "Mother, why aren't you eating?"

Always the master at hiding how startled she is, she looks at me, scoffs, and replies: "I've had two nougat croissants earlier, I'm afraid. You were right, dear, they really do make the best ones in Athens here!" Then she turns to look at Ares' plate: "Ares, how about you?"

He sits straight on his chair again. Deary me, he's nervous!

"Well...," he chuckles. "Everything that's cooked by a professional is way better than what they serve us at the base!"

Mother nods: "The King and the Queen are visiting a military academy as we speak, aren't they?"

Ah, yes, the usual round of engagements!

"Yes," I reply. "They are going to listen to the carols and give everyone their best wishes. Then they are going to have lunch with a few friends of theirs at their mansion."

Yes, Lydia also keeps me informed on their schedule. Have I forgotten to mention that?

Mother turns to Ares again. This is getting pretty predictable... "I hope you don't mind me intervening, dear, but... Do they know that you are here?"

Oh, no. Every time Mother calls a man thus, it means that she is suspicious about them. Guess what it is and you'll get a cookie...

"No," Ares says. "They don't ask about my schedule and I don't ask for theirs. So, as long as I don't have any engagements to attend, I can do whatever I'd like."

He sounds too confident for his own good... Mother's worries will be confirmed that way, stupid! That's it, she's doing it again. She nods! Then she turns to me again: "How about you, Aphrodite, what sort of engagements do you have to do during Christmas?"

Oh, thank god. I was dreading that would never end! Suddenly, I'm the person of interest and I just tell them about it, having nothing more interesting to talk about. Other than the occasional remark Ares makes about his agenda and his return to the base in three days, Mother doesn't have another conversation just with him again. All of us are acting like we want lunch to finish as soon as possible, yet no one is brave enough to take the first step. So, dessert is served and twenty minutes later we ask the butler not to serve us coffee because Ares has an engagement to attend to. Thankfully...

As soon as we bid him goodbye, Mother asks me to follow her to the study. That's it. The moment of truth has arrived. Oh, gosh, why didn't I tell her straight out who the father was all along? It'd have spared us all a lot of trouble...

I close the door behind me, just to be safe, and turn to look at Mother. Her back is facing me and she has one hand on the hip and the other on her forehead. She means business...

She doesn't waste a second. At once, she turns and asks me straight out: "Was he the father?"

I feel a lump rising in my throat and that awful nausea returns. It always happens when I feel that I'm under lots of pressure all of a sudden... I nod, staring at the floor in shame. My eyes fill with tears and suddenly, I feel like I've gotten rid of that dreadful weight that's been plaguing me for months on end! Why didn't I tell her earlier?

Mother senses my distress and holds me close. I rest my head on her shoulder and draw a few deep breaths while she's running her fingers through my hair. "No, no, don't cry. It was for the best. Especially since he was also involved!"

Her soothing voice helps calm me down. Then she breaks the embrace, wipes away the few tears that have already appeared in my eyes, and kisses my forehead. I hug her again.

"I don't want him to know," I tell her. "Or Father or Hera."

"Your secret is safe with me."

She breaks the embrace again and looks into my eyes. Then she picks up a tissue from the box on the desk and hands it to me so that I can wipe my nose. Suddenly, I chuckle.

"What is it?" she asks.

"It's nothing, it's..." I toy with the tissue in my fingers. When I look at her again, she's smiling. "Thank you!"

She shrugs her shoulders: "I'm your mother, dear. It's part of the job! Now... Would you like some chocolate truffles? I heard they make some excellent ones in here!"

I chuckle. I don't want to know what she talked about with Hera. Private audiences are confidential, after all. But I'm just glad I have her here.

Have I said that one too many times? I sincerely apologize. I'd hate to be repetitive.

Oh, well. At least I get the chocolate truffles!


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Here's the second part of the chapter. I'm sorry that the writing in this one may be poorer, but it's been an damn pain to write... There's no Athena in this chapter BUT I will be featuring her in the next chapter, I promise. Spoiler alert: there's some trouble in paradise for Ares and Aphrodite. But with Hera being... well... Hera, you should've seen that one coming :P**

 **Remember to review, please :)**

* * *

 _Hephaestus' Flat, Kolonaki, Central Athens_

Hephaestus leaned back on his chair and let out a long sigh of relief. His back was hurting him all over, his knees felt wobbly, and he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in days. But he didn't care.

At long last, they were finished! A pair of ornamental chandelier earrings, three inches long, made exclusively of white diamonds and crystal. The studs were the shape of a blooming flower.

He had outdone himself this time. Gently, he held them with his gloved hands and placed them on the small pillow in their case. He had to destroy his great-grandmother's pearl-and-diamond necklace to make them but it was worth the trouble. His mother wouldn't mind. That necklace had been her most priced possession, although she had let it to rot into the safe for years. She wouldn't mind, though, as long as the Crown Princess would be impressed.

His eyes wandered around the messy desk. He had created dozens, if not hundreds, of jewelery on there, but never had it looked more chaotic than it did now. Pictures of Aphrodite and his own notes and designs were scattered all over the place and the dirty dish from his latest meal (a frozen pizza from the night before) was resting nearby too.

He had wanted to create something unique for Aphrodite, preferably something that hadn't worn before.

Easier said than done. She had adorned all kinds of earrings, from diamond chandeliers to golden ones shaped like butterflies. But Aphrodite's favourite tiara, the Rose Crystal, had given him the answer.

It was the one she had worn the most during her tour as well. She had worn it at every single state banquet her royal relatives would host in her honour. Even the Swedish Queen expressed her admiration for it publicly!

It was made of silver crystals and white diamonds. A quick research revealed that the tiara had been almost as old as the House of Olympios itself. Described as the 'romantic version of a Romanov tiara' (according to some website), it had been ordained as the first King of that dynasty as a birthday gift to his wife, born the Princess of Hohenzollern-Sigmarinen and related to the House of Romanov by birth and by marriage (her mother was born a Russian Grand Duchess and her sister had married the Tsar's cousin). In 1890, seven years after her husband's death, the widowed Queen gave it to her successor, the Russian Princess that had married her eldest son, King Tartarus. She could also be seen in her official portrait wearing it. From then it ended up in the hands of Queens Gaia and Rhea, who shunned its romantic looks for simpler, yet more intimidating, tiaras. During the Royal Family's time in exile during the military dictatorship in the late 1960s, the tiara had been among the things they had taken with them to London. Since Queen Rhea and Princesses Hestia and Demeter hardly ever wore it, disliking how extravagant it looked, the Rose Crystal had been considered lost for many years until Dione Oceanides had been seen wearing it on the first state dinner she'd attended as the newlywed and pregnant Crown Princess. But, she forwent her titles after her divorce from the King and thus the tiara ended up in Aphrodite's hands.

And, my god, never had it looked more gorgeous!

Hephaestus was determined to turn it into a parure. All that was missing was a pair of earrings, a brooch, and a necklace. They all had to be made from the same material as the tiara, but they should overshadow it.

Hopefully, this time, Aphrodite wouldn't return his gift. The memory of her pushing the bracelet case towards him at their first dinner together haunted him still. But it also made him want to put more effort into impressing her. He knew that their marriage would not be easy. But it would free him from his parents' watchful and scorning eye. Plus, she, too, had a difficult childhood. Perhaps they could find a way to heal each other's wounds.

Normally, his parents would scold him for every single thing that he did - from the way he held the fork to his trouble walking. In fact, they found him so repulsing that they that they had rented the empty flat above theirs to avoid him as much as possible. But since the King had asked him to marry the Crown Princess, their behaviour towards him changed overnight. They kept telling him how proud they were of him. His father had taught him how to wear a suit properly and his mother had practically opened up her vault for him. All those sparkling jewels, from diamond earrings to sapphire necklaces, were at his disposal to break apart and create something new for the Crown Princess.

But Hephaestus was not the fool they thought he was. He knew that they used him for their own social advancement. He had been their surprise golden ticket to the life they had always wanted - becoming celebrities in their own right, posing for magazines, giving interviews on TV... They would get to call the Royal Family 'their relatives'. It was the best offer they could ever get and they were clinging on to it for dear life. They didn't care about Aphrodite or any of her relatives as people. Rather, they saw them as the only way for them to reach the top. As tools to take advantage of.

It actually made him sick.

He couldn't care less about all that pomp and pageantry. All he knew was that he had been in love with Aphrodite for years and he had been given the chance to marry her. He was determined not to let it go to waste.

As he was placing the case carefully to the gift bag (a red one, with reindeer and Christmas trees drawn all over it), his eyes fell on that dreadful picture of Ares and Aphrodite dancing. He could recall every single moment of their tango. How their bodies would touch, the look in each other's eyes, how happy Aphrodite looked... Throughout, Eris was whispering in his ear, warning him to be careful... Calling Aphrodite the man-eater, who broke hearts because it pleased her to do so. He had defied the Princess then. After all, she did have a reputation for coming up with various stories that bore no resemblance to the truth, like her mother. But the more he looked at the picture, the more he doubted himself.

Whatever it took, he'd win her over. The Prince would not attend the gala. Every single magazine and newspaper kept reminding everyone that he would return to the Army base either the day after Christmas or the next. Hephaestus couldn't remember the exact date. Neither did he care.

He and Aphrodite hadn't spoken to each other since the night of the gala. After the kidnap scare, he had texted her a hundred times, asking her if she had been all right and if she had needed anything. He had even left her a voice mail, begging her to call him the first chance she could. Yet, every single time, he had received the same cold, stern answer: _"Her Royal Highness is currently unavailable. We apologize."_

He didn't have the number to her private mobile phone. Zeus had reassured him that it was for the best and that he would be given it as soon as they'd get engaged. For security reasons. They had spoken the night before. The King had told him that he had grown tired of the Crown Princess' hesitation to accept the proposal, especially since she was aware that she couldn't escape it. Hephaestus felt the same way. Well, then, about time he seized the day. Since Ares wouldn't be there to distract either of them, Hephaestus would woe Aphrodite. He'd make one jewel a day if she so wished and he'd be the very definition of a gentleman. Perhaps the ice between them would melt at long last.

He didn't have high hopes, however. He knew she might never accept him as her husband, let alone as her lover. But Aphrodite had never so much as raised her voice at him. She had a reputation for being bitter like acid towards the people she didn't like. She didn't even hesitate to be downright cruel to whom she regarded as her enemy.

But, since their dinner at the Grande Bretagne, Aphrodite had treated Hephaestus as a friend. Surely, that was a good sign.

Wasn't it?

* * *

 _Diplomat's Hall, Royal Palace_

Remember when I told you that I had almost become a Bond Girl once?

Well, dating Ares and having all this tight security around me do seem to bring me closed to the dream, but nothing can ever be compared with the actual feeling of being on set. Sort of.

There I am, standing in front of the big Christmas tree, smiling at the camera, and looking every bit the Crown Princess.

Oh, don't worry! I won't be declaring war just yet. I'm just taping my New Year's Day speech. Picture it. Me in a Dior dress (white as a sheet, knee-length, with a boat neckline, and angel sleeves that reach to the elbow), my hair in a curly half-up, half-down, and the only piece of jewelery I wear is a diamond and pearl brooch below my left shoulder. They had asked me to wear the most festive thing I own, so it was either this or a Santa Girl costume with the shortest skirt you've ever seen.

I could have worn that one, but then Zeus Almighty would flip right there and then and long story short we might be having a funeral instead. I am not ready to be a full-time queen just yet!

Anyway, I am stepping on my mark, which is a special blue duct tape so that it won't destroy Queen Gaia's Persian carpets. Thinking about it, that's almost as old as my brooch... It's an heirloom from the first-ever Queen of the Olympios dynasty. The one that came all the way from Germany to marry a military man old enough to be her father and who didn't have a drop of royal blood in his body.

Yes, I'm sorry. No more blabbering.

Two out of the three royal photographers are here, to make sure that everything is fine. One is standing behind the camera, the other is staring at the small screen that shows what the camera is shooting, and one of the King's three private secretaries is also in the room, to make sure that the teleprompter works just fine. I think she's number two? That smugness does look familiar...

Contrary to tradition, I am not sitting down but standing up, folding my arms one on top of the other on my stomach and intertwining my fingers. I'm reading aloud my very own speech as it rolls on the teleprompter. I have told them that I didn't need it, but they persisted.

Amateurs.

To tell you the truth, I find it awful when public figures read their speeches aloud. Unknowingly, it creates a distance between them and the audience. So, I learn mine by heart. Yes, all of them. Once, I made a twenty-minute speech without notes or a transcript and I was highly praised for it. People thought it was impromptu but, frankly, I just have a great memory. It's quite practical, really. You don't have to live in fear of losing your notes and have nothing else to do but stare at the audience in awkward silence. (I can also remember the exact date I met and broke up with every single one of my exes. For real!)

Here's a preview of the speech: "With this thought, my family and I would like to wish everybody in our country and beyond a very Happy New Year for 2007, filled with love, laughter, and lots of joy."

Then the photographer behind the screen shouts: "Cut!"

I immediately let out a sigh of relief and drop the smile from my face. Normally, I am very comfortable in front of the camera. I'm an almost Bond Girl, for heaven's sakes! But I can't help feeling nervous about this whole televised speech thing. It's not the first time I've done it. I had actually given it back in 1999 too, the first time I was also left as Regent, to welcome the new millennium. Since then, it's been a tradition with us. Every time you see me show up on screen and wish you a happy new year, you shall be left in my care soon enough.

Don't say we didn't warn you.

But at least Zeus Almighty does allow me to tape mine every single time. It could have been worse. I could be doing it on live broadcast, like he does. Under normal circumstances, I'd have shot it weeks in advance, but convincing him to actually let me do it this way took a little longer than I had anticipated. Plus, there was this whole stolen items 'scandal' and the Hephaestus business to think of which I still haven't taken care of.

Oh, by the way, the Big Boss is here in all his glory. He's the one with the 'proud Dad' look on his face and also the only person kind enough to clap for me. While everyone is busier watching the footage again to make sure that we don't have to do it all over again, Father Dearest walks up to me. Despite the carpets, his steps still echo in the room. Friendly reminder, the Diplomat's Hall is massive. So, he walks up to me, kisses me on both cheeks to congratulate me and I, true to form, curtsy and then he kisses the back of my hand. Well, at least when people leave the room, they'll think we have a perfectly healthy father/daughter relationship. (He can't do that with Athena. She hates being kissed. Or hugged. That explains a lot).

So, as Thunder continues to grip my upper arms tenderly, but tightly, he continues to express his pride towards me, but at least now he's vocal about it: "It was excellent! Well done!"

Should I tell him I wrote the speech myself? Better not. I don't want the Christmas speech just yet. It's all his. And there comes another lecture: "I am truly proud of you. You conducted yourself as a true queen might. Now I can rest assured that you will make a great Regent while I'm away."

There now, don't be fooled. He has already asked Athena to be my "supervisor". Her internship ends in a couple of months and she'll return to Greece immediately after to resume her duties as Princess. Keeping an eye on me isn't part of the job, but there's now way His Majesty would've let me in charge as the sole captain of the ship. He has to make sure I don't cause for the country to fall apart while I'm left in charge. And I'm his heir for heaven's sake!

In short, go figure.

But that's not the only demand he bestows upon me: "I do hope you won't get any ideas like breaking off the 'arrangement' between us and the Petalas family, however."

Yes, you guessed right. He means my engagement. He just can't call it that when there are people watching and there hasn't been any talk about releasing an official announcement yet. It's a rule of thumb. Never discuss family matters in front of the staffers. Unless the King has cheated on the Queen again. Then there's no way you can the shouts, doors banging, and the distance between the two.

Perhaps now it would be a good time to ask him straight out: "Is that why you have invited Manhattan Five-Two at the Christmas festivities and the New Year's Eve gala?"

Another rule. Never, ever, ever mention Mother's name in here. Or else, Hera will be pissed and may feed you to the lions. But she is allowed in the Royal Palace as a guest. It's the only arrangement I've ever made with my wicked stepmother. Don't mention the King's ex-wife by name but do invite her to dinner. And you thought your family was weird.

But there's also another reason I call her that. I don't want word to escape that Mother is here. Not yet. She'd like to make her first public appearance at the New Year's Eve gala and she has a reason to do so. The staffers won't say anything, of course, if they find out. They're getting paid to keep mum about what's going on behind those walls. If they gossip about us to their relatives or even sell stories about us to the press, they're fired without any explanation. Still though, we need proof to do that. We can't afford to go firing the wrong people, the jobs we offer aren't advertised. On the contrary, if a former or retired employee knows someone, they introduce them to us and they go through a series of interviews before they get hired. Same for interns. And they need to have a clear criminal record. We can't risk our own safety or hire people we can't trust. Guess why.

Zeus Almighty drops the smile. His expression goes from proud to worried and concerned within seconds and now his grip on my arms gets tighter. He's hurting me, and hos fingers will definitely leave a mark, but I refuse to let it show.

"I simply believed it was rude of them to be here and for us to act as if they're not," he replies. Yeah, right... "As for the arrangement, I trust you have already let them know. But I cannot change the way things are. Believe me. I don't like it either."

Please, not that again! I scoff so loudly that the photographers and the makeup team nearby turn to look at us. (Yes, I called my team over. I never go anywhere without them these days). Still, I manage to spare us the embarrassment by covering my mouth with my hand and smiling stupidly. I am a master at playing the disguise game it seems...

Thunder doesn't say a thing. Not until a few moments go by first. But he looks at me so sternly, as if he would turn me into stone if he could. Beware of that stare. I am given it quite a lot recently.

"When you are done," he says with a commanding tone in his voice, "I need to speak to you in private."

I know what's coming. Don't be fooled by his affectionate behaviour towards me. He's kissing my cheek again and I curtsy to him once more. Hurriedly, he leaves the room and everyone turns to look at him, either bowing their heads or curtsying too. Heads always roll when he's coming in and out of the room. And his eldest daughter is being driven mad because there's no way they can communicate anymore. No, there's no hope. Believe me, I've tried to make amends but he won't let me. Not until I come up to him and tell him straight out that I will marry Hephaestus. He'll try to fish that out of me too during our private audience.

But I ain't down yet.

Not wasting a second, I turn to the photographers with a request: "I would like to reshoot the closing of my speech, please. There is something about it that I'd like to change."

Everyone looks a bit bewildered. But, after spending a few moments exchanging baffled looks, they rush to get back to work without trying to change my mind. My makeup artist runs up to me with rouge and lipstick in tow to fix what Zeus Almighty's "gentle" manners have destroyed and his secretary approaches me too, with the transcript and a pen in her hand, for me to write down the changes. She even gives suggestions! But I don't need her help. I'm a big girl now, I can find my own way out of trouble.

Nevertheless, I do write down the changes I've made. The draft will be given to all the newspapers and it will be archived later. Doesn't hurt to add my own personal touch to the typed text now, does it?

When all is done, I step back on my mark, resume my former pose, and clear my throat. They're trying to turn on the teleprompter but I tell them there's no such need. So, the photographer behind the camera raises his hand. Thirty seconds later, he puts it down, which is a sign that the camera is rolling. Very professionally, I begin to recite every word from the last paragraph, including the little twist I added in the plot.

He might be predictable all he wants. But I am not. Neither should I ever be.

At the end of the day, I am still my mother's daughter.

* * *

 _The same evening..._

 _East Drawing Room, Palace of Tatoi, Acharnai, Attica_

Throwing the lemon slice in the glass, Amphitrite brought it to her nose and tried very hard to keep from frowning. She had no idea how Poseidon could drink that thing. It stunk. But it was his favourite and she had long given up questioning her husband's eccentricities. So did the staffers, who had grown accustomed with the pair's habits over the years. Every time that the Princess would request those three ingredients to be brought on a tray, it meant that she and her husband should not be disturbed.

For once, the princely couple were glad to escape the havoc upstairs. Everyone was getting ready for the Christmas Eve gala, with all the noise, chaos, and lively conversations that ensued. Every year, the King and the Queen would host a banquet

for Athenian high society, members of the court, and senior politicians at the ball room of the Grande Bretagne. It was yet another black-tie event and which every single member of the Royal Family, including Triton, Rhode, and Hebe, were obliged to attend.

Amphitrite was glad she had taken an aspirin beforehand. There would be reporters and TV crews outside the hotel and their cameras never stopped flashing. She wished she could follow Poseidon's advise and turn a blind eye at their presence, but she wanted to keep their children out of the spotlight as much as possible, even though everyone, from Poseidon to Zeus even, had convinced her time and again that they got as little coverage as possible. After all, they were born royal, so it was part of the job. Plus, it was Christmas Eve. It only came but once a year.

Triton and Rhode seemed to share none of their mother's apprehension. They were thrilled to attend such a 'grown-up' event. Rhode, in particular, was excited about wearing a fancy dress and acting like the princess her father kept claiming she was. As far as she was concerned, real princesses were wearing tiaras and wearing dresses designed just for them. But when she had complained to Amphitrite about that, her mother had replied that she'd have to wait until her eighteenth birthday for 'the real royal treatment'.

Yet Poseidon didn't want to talk to her about their own children. As soon as Amphitrite handed him his drink, he took a sip and twirled the glass around. He looked deeply concerned and couldn't stop staring at the glass while he was twirling it, which meant only one thing. He wanted to talk to her about Ares.

Amphitrite bit her lip and tucked her fringe behind her ear. Her hairstylist had persisted that a chignon suited her one-shoulder knee-length purple lace dress better but she hated it. It made her look stiff and cold. She'd rather have worn her hair either down or in a braid. Or both. She felt comfortable that way.

Crossing her hands in front of her chest, she decided to break the awkward silence between them: "You need to talk to him. You're the only person in this family he actually listens to!"

Poseidon nodded and stifled a yawn. He had stayed up all night long, staring into the void in the dark and recalling that little discussion he had had with Ares the day before. His nephew had tried to avoid the conversation as usual. After all, he had never liked to discuss his private life with anyone, even his favourite uncle. Yet Poseidon had noticed the way Ares couldn't help admiring Aphrodite's legs. It reminded Poseidon of the way he'd look at his wife every time he'd steal glimpses of her sleeping soundly next to him or getting dressed. But it was normal for him to still be attracted to his wife's slender body, despite being together for twenty years and having two children. They had been strangers once. Much as he hated to admit it, she was right. He couldn't deny the attraction between the two siblings or how wrong it was.

"I can't just walk up to him and say, 'Hey, how are you, are you dating your sister?' No one does that," Poseidon replied annoyingly.

"People talk, dear."

Poseidon scoffed. Indeed they did. The staffers would never dare gossip, but the media certainly did. Everything, from Ares and Aphrodite's dance at Hera's birthday to the wink and the smile he had given her during the carol singing at the Royal Palace, confirmed the attraction between them. Heck, you could even see the sparks flying just by looking at the pictures!

"I was stunned when Hera told me about her suspicions too," Amphitrite furthered. "She believed that Ares and Aphrodite danced a little too closely during the gala. After the carols, we spoke on the phone. She asked me if I had noticed the winking too. I had no idea what to tell her!"

"Tell her that she and Zeus should stop sleeping in separate bedrooms. It'd do wonders for their drinking problem. Cheers!" he said, raising his glass and taking another sip.

Amphitrite couldn't help chuckling at that remark. Poseidon noticed and he smiled back. He placed his drink on a nearby coffee table and approached her. He knew how much his wife hated to intervene in other people's lives, but Ares was something of an adoptive son to them, much as Amphitrite hoped Triton wouldn't end up like him. He may not have been as close to Amphitrite as he was with Poseidon, but he trusted and respected her more than Hera. As for her, she disliked his trouble-making nature and his love of discord and violence, yet she had grown fond of him. After all, he was a troubled child that was simply looking for a place in a dysfunctional patchwork family. She had asked Poseidon once how come they were so close and she couldn't hide her surprise when he told her that Ares reminded him of himself when he had been younger.

Amphitrite could certainly spot a resemblance between her husband and her nephew now. Their obsession with the woman they'd fall for. She had noticed that familiar glint in Ares' eyes every time he'd look at Aphrodite or even at the mere mention of her name. Poseidon had it too. That's why Amphitrite had never lived in fear of him leaving her for another woman. Having mistresses may have been a game between him and Zeus, but he had put an abrupt end to it when she had threatened to divorce him. His willingness and persistence to work things out had reassured Amphitrite that he loved her still. Him stepping back for her sake had stunned her. After all, she was completely unselfish and he was the biggest egotist she had ever met. She was calm whereas he was temperamental. Yet, surprisingly, they had found a balance. She had agreed to act as the support player to him, always on the sidelines, to let him shine.

But Ares and Aphrodite were not like that. They'd never be. They were too self-centered to make that kind of sacrifice. If something was actually going on between them, it would come end badly sooner or later and they'd have to spend the rest of their lives in fear of people finding out. For better or worse, they were family. They couldn't avoid each other for long without raising suspicions.

Poseidon knew that as well. Resting his hands on his wife's shoulders, he looked into her eyes and let out a long sigh. He knew, as well as she did, that he couldn't deny her a thing, no matter how hard the task might be.

"I can warn Ares about the way he acts towards Aphrodite," he said. "But remember. I am doing it for your sake and no one else's. And if I hear that they are a couple one more time-"

"Hush now!" Amphitrite brought her fingertips on Poseidon's lips to motion for him to remain quiet. "I'm just worried that it won't end well for them. If they can keep it a secret, fine. Otherwise, I'd hate to see your family lose everything you hold most dear!"

Poseidon held her hand tight and rested it on his chest. He loved how Amphitrite had gone from a hesitant young girl to a smart and confident woman. She was definitely the best support player he could ever wish for. He took a few moments to himself to admire her beauty and then he brought his hands around her and pulled her close. Amphitrite rested her head on his shoulder while he was whispering in her ear:

"My precious pearl. My sweet little dolphin. Thank you." He had no idea why he had said that. He then broke the embrace and looked into her eyes: "But I insist about Hera. She's crazy. I understand that she helped you adjust to life as a royal, but you're an angel in comparison. Don't let her change you."

Amphitrite giggled and shrugged her shoulders. "She taught me the most important lesson, though." Poseidon gave her a confused look. Mimicking Hera's voice, she said: "The man is the head and the woman is the neck. And she can turn the head any way she wants!"

Poseidon couldn't help teasing some more: "Well, then. Welcome to the family!"

They burst out laughing. It had been just what they needed to get rid of all the nerves and the tension that had been building up since they had arrived in Athens.

The evening would be long tonight.

* * *

 _Aphrodite's limousine_

"Well, this definitely traveling in style!"

Mother is trying to sound cheerful, but I know her better than that. She's acting to hide her own concerns. I've told her everything that Zeus Almighty had told me during the taping of my speech and in his office afterwards. How I should stop playing games with him and he was slowly losing his patience... How there was no way for me to get out of that match and that, the longer I postponed my answer, the worse I made it for myself.

She didn't say anything or the matter or even try to call Zeus, no matter how many times I asked her to do so. She told me she couldn't just call him without having a plan first. I'll give her time. Plenty of it. She will come up with something, I'm sure.

For the time being, though, she leaves me to my own devices.

I have been staring out of the window, although I cannot see much except for the very strong lights from the Christmas decorations. Athens is wonderful at this time of year, so full of colours and lights, a genuine show of love and affection... It's a pity Mother cannot get to see it. Tinted windows do not allow us to see much from the inside, except for the very strong lights, but at least we are grateful for the privacy we get.

We're driving to Ekalis, the most affluent area of Athens. Some of Mother's friends have invited her over for the little party they're throwing tonight, since she cannot attend the gala Zeus and Hera are hosting. I wish I could say the same for Hephaestus' family. They will most certainly be there, seeing that the King and the Queen are hosting the gala for their closest friends and staunchest supporters, as well as for the politicians that support them. You bet that the in-laws-to-be of the Crown Princess won't miss the opportunity to sneak in like the little rats that they are.

It doesn't take a genius to see why they are so keen on the match as well...

I shouldn't think about that now. I am driving through the most affluent areas of Athens and no one can see me. I am wearing a 1940s original floor-length burgundy gown (Tethys' gift for my twentieth-fifth birthday) and my side-swept hair are falling in soft curls on my shoulder. Plus, I have successfully convinced Mother to shun the dark blue dress she was planning to wear for an elegant knee-length silver gown which she thought was "too flashy". Personally, I think she looks great in it. It's perfect for a cocktail party, too.

Yes, this is perhaps the only amount of actual authority I possess.

Why am I with her? Well, it's simple really. I have to make it look like I'm as much of a guest at the Grande Bretagne as everyone else. Given my position, I have to be one of the last people to arrive, for which I am grateful, I must say. I get to spend some time with Mother's friends and perhaps have a drink or two before I go back to playing the fairytale princess. While I'll be doing so, my car will be getting a royal makeover. For the time being, we have to travel incognito so no royal plates or flags for us just yet. They will change them once we get there. At least I should be grateful that I can actually trust the bodyguard that's with me this time. Remember the guy whose nose Ares broke and had to get himself a new one? Yes, that's him. I persisted he spent some time with his family and he's been through enough trouble for me already, but he persisted. It's his own way of returning the favour of me paying for his surgery in full, he said. He does have insurance, but it doesn't cover plastic surgery. Besides, I had to deal with my own guilt about Ares' behaviour somehow.

Don't ask. It's just how I roll.

Mother holds my hand and brings me back to reality. I look at her, trying hard to smile, but I can see the worry in her eyes.

"You should not let what your father said get to you," she says in French, so that the driver and the bodyguard won't eavesdrop. "Christmas Eve comes but once a year. You'd better enjoy it while it lasts."

I shake my head and stare at my knees. Somehow, they make an interesting sight. With my gloved hand, I pretend to wipe off some dust on my khaki coat. I always seem to do that when I am worried and Mother notices it too. She pinches my hand a little and I look at her again. I speak in French too.

"Can't you make Father a better offer? You could destroy the entire Greek economy overnight with a single phone call. Why can't you just convince Father you can... buy me off?"

"Don't talk like that, you're not an object sold at auction!" she replies. "Look. You know how your grandfather and your uncles keep the money on a very tight leash. They did set up a trust fund for you, but only because you're an Oceanides as well as an Olympios. We are all trying to get you out of this but... it's not going to be easy."

The entire Oceanides family know about Zeus Almighty playing the matchmaker. Mother had asked Tantalus to tell them, since they are all gathered in London, and I haven't stopped receiving emails, phone calls, and text messages of support from all of my aunts, uncles, and cousins. Some of them made me cry. When Mother also told me that they are trying to come up with a plan to get me out of this situation, I actually burst into tears. This is how things work in the world. Kings and politicians don't rule the world. Money does. Thunder knows this and it's what he wants. Considering my grandparents' wealth, sooner or later they'll make him an offer he won't be able to resist. But they have to get Grandfather Oceanus to agree. He has despised the Greek Royal Family with all his might since my parents' divorce. Despite his old age and his love for me, he won't let Zeus Almighty anywhere near his money for as long as he is alive. And let me tell you, he's pretty sturdy for a man in his nineties.

Unless...

"How about your money and Tantalus'?" I ask eagerly.

Mother scoffs: "My father only gave me some amount of my inheritance, not all of it. I used that money to set up Gynae Foundation. You were a child back then. Had I known that the King would get you into such a mess, I'd have planned things differently. As for Tantalus, he hates the Royal Family as much as your uncles do."

That's actually because Father accused Tantalus of having an affair with Mother while they were still married. Zeus and Tantalus used to be best buddies, as were Mother and Hera. But as far as I'm concerned, Mother and Tantalus became a pair after her and Zeus Almighty's divorce was finalized.

I exhale deeply and bite my bottom lip. Then I look at the open gift back between us. It arrived as I was about to leave the room. Anna told me that it was urgent and couldn't wait. It's another jewelery box, which I've yet to open. I didn't have to read the Christmas card inside to understand that it's from Hephaestus. Mother read it and she told me that he had just scribbled down some "heartfelt" wishes. He also wrote that he'd like to see me wear his latest gift with the Rose Crystal tiara. Mother opened the box out of curiosity and told me that it contains a pair of long diamond and pearl earrings. She told me they were exquisite and admired Hephaestus' talent, but she didn't force me to see them. Instead, she's trying to change the subject:

"I have asked Lydia to accept both of the King's invites on my behalf."

Wait, what? Why?

"But Mother...," I reply startled. "I-"

"I know," she nods. "The media will notice me and I do not like that either. After all, I'm not here to steal anyone's thunder. But I cannot help you unless I see the full picture first. It will also make it easier for your uncles to convince your grandfather!"

She's joking again and it doesn't seem to be working this time either. Maybe it's also her way to protect mine and Ares' secret, although she'll never admit it publicly. We both remain silent for a few moments but I can feel her eyes on me as I remove my right glove. I just want to do something for heaven's sake! I put it back on and then fold my hands on my lap. I look outside the window for a moments, just sinking into my own little world. I feel something heavy inside, like guilt for the trouble I'm putting everyone through.

Zeus Almighty wants a million-dollar offer to set me free and, although it won't really make much of a difference to the Oceanides family, still it's a lot of money. Maybe I should just accept and spare everyone the trouble. But that would make me hate myself.

"Do you think I should marry Hephaestus after all?" My eyes meet Mother's. She bents her head and gives me a small smile. She touches my face. She looks disappointed. I rush to explain: "This way you won't lose the money and... Father gets what he wants, the Monarchy is not put in danger... I can also keep my affair a secret... I had made up my mind about doing so ages ago but now... It doesn't feel right."

"Don't give up without a fight. We will get you out of this situation one way or another."

If only I were as confident as she is every time she faces an issue...

"That's not it... I don't know why cheating on him suddenly feels so wrong. I-I can't recognize myself anymore. Yet every time I try to push him as far away from me as possible, I feel guilty like... like he doesn't deserve it."

She gives me a reassuring smile: "You really like Hephaestus, don't you?"

I cannot lie to her. I do. It's not his fault he has such parents, after all. Besides, he's actually spent time to make me two personal gifts so far. He is very much in love with me. But I'm not sure if I can afford to play the heart breaker anymore.

"You're lost. It's not the first time," Mother adds. " Just... Whatever you decide to do, stay away from harm. You're playing with fire. You have done it before, but still it is a very dangerous game. Rest assured about one thing, though."

"What is it?"

"Whatever the outcome, you'll never have to worry about money!"

That actually makes me laugh. Mother leans forward and kisses my forehead.

Yet, I still feel like something is about to go terribly, terribly wrong.

Oh, gosh, I hope we're getting to her friends' house soon enough. I could really do with a drink right now.

A really strong one.

* * *

 _Ares' bedroom, Private Quarters, Royal Palace_

Ares was staring at himself in the mirror while he was buttoning up his black jacket. Much as he enjoyed wearing a well-tailored suit throughout the day, he couldn't help feeling like a penguin in tuxedos and dinner suits. If it had a choice, he'd show up in his usual black jeans and leather jacket, much to the Queen's dismay. Besides, he had a girl to impress and she liked men who dressed well.

He felt the harsh brush against his shoulders. His valet was dusting it up to make sure that it looked absolutely flawless, although it had been dry cleaned and ironed just a few hours ago. They never showed up in unwashed clothes, even if they had already worn them just once. That was actually one of the few luxuries of being a royal that Ares indulged in. Still, he felt more way more comfortable in his military uniform, although it smelled of sweat and dirt.

He nodded through the mirror and the valet proceeded to help him put on his cuff links. But he stopped abruptly when he heard a knock on the door. At once, he went to open it while Ares stood before the mirror again, to catch a glimpse of the unwanted visitor. It was most certainly Hebe. Every time she would play dress up, she'd run all over the palace flaunting her new dress to everyone - even the maids and the doormen!

"Your Majesty!" the valet exclaimed as soon as he opened the door.

Ares, too, was stunned. Under normal circumstances, Hera never visited his bed chambers. Yet, there she was, in her dark royal blue chiffon dress with a V-neckline and a small overcoat which was most likely sewn on the dress covering her shoulders and her upper arms. And with her side-swept hair falling in soft curls and secured with a diamond, pearl, and blue sapphire brooch, she held an uncanny resemblance to Eris. All the way down to their strict glare and the authoritative way they held their bodies.

He didn't know why her presence made him feel so threatened. But he knew better than to give his mother the reassurance that she had managed to intimidate him. Facing his valet, he nodded to him to leave. The staffer bowed his head hurriedly and left the room, making sure that the door behind him was closed. As soon as Ares was left alone with Hera, he walked up to her with open arms, pretending to be happy to see her.

"Mother!" he smiled. He held her hand and kissed the back of her palm, while Hera gleed with joy and pride. "You look magnificent!"

"Thank you dear!" She dropped the smile and rested her hand against her son's shoulder. Ares knew what that gesture meant. "There is something I need to talk to you about. I am afraid it cannot wait."

Ares clenched his jaw. The last thing he wanted now was to have a private conversation with his mother. But since he couldn't turn her down, he pointed at the small sitting room nearby. It was just two armchairs and a small coffee table which were so rarely used they ended up being there for decoration. Still, it could do for a discussion.

Hera thought so as well. Not wasting a second, she sat down and pointed to the other armchair for Ares to sit on. She didn't waste a second: "I see that you and Aphrodite have developed a... particular... closeness recently."

The way she uttered those words made Ares suspect that she might have found out about their affair and that she had come to lecture him on it. But thinking twice, Hera wouldn't have been so calm if she had known. As Aphrodite would say, scoffing, she'd have torn down that place instead to keep herself from committing murder.

Yet again, Hera always made sure to keep her cards close to her chest.

Maintaining her regal posture (leaned to the side, legs crossed to the ankles, one hand in a fist on the armrest and the other on her knees), she remained quiet for a few moments. Ares was eager to ask her what the matter was. The sooner he was done with this, the better. But Hera obviously wanted to play the queen and he had to follow the protocol. After a few moments, she spoke again:

"I happen to have heard some rumours." Then she paused, digging her perfectly manicured nails into her tender skin. She had tried to do it as subtly as possible, yet Ares couldn't help noticing it. Drawing a deep breath and avoiding his gaze, she added: "It doesn't matter from whom, but certainly not the press. I wondered if you could confirm them."

"Of course," Ares replied confidently. "If I knew what they were about."

"Yes, excuse me." She tapped her pointer finger to her forehead. Every single time she did that, he felt uncomfortable but he had no idea why. "A woman normally doesn't discuss such things with a man, even if he's her own brother." She drew a deep breath. "I heard that Aphrodite had a brief affair during her tour. It doesn't matter with whom." Another pause. Ares couldn't stand that woman's behaviour at times. Especially when she wasted precious time like that.

Ares was losing patience: "Well?"

Hera drew a very deep breath and stared into her son's eyes. It was now or never. "She committed an abortion while she was in the U.S."

Ares leaned back on his chair. His throat suddenly felt dry and he felt like he was covered in cold sweat. He tried to think of all the dates again and try to put them in order. Try as he might to convince himself otherwise, he was almost certain that the child was... his. He didn't know how but it didn't matter.

Hera dug the nails in her skin deeper. It'd leave a mark but she didn't care. She kept staring at her son, taking in every single one of his reactions. The way he tugged on his collar, how he looked like he needed a glass of water or a drink...

That was it. She was right all along.

She was stunned by how much it hurt. It had been worse than finding out about her husband's affairs. At least she knew how to handle those by now...

Still, she clung on to the hope that she might have been wrong. Ares felt the same way. She could see it in his eyes. So, she had no other choice but to play her last card:

"If she hadn't had that... dreadful operation, she'd have been showing by now. She'd have been about..." she took some time to herself to do the maths again. If she got it wrong, everything would be ruined. But she couldn't think straight. "Five months along. Six at most."

Ares also kept doing the sum in his head. He had to resist the urge to lean forward and bury his face in his hands. Hera shouldn't suspect a thing. He had to protect Aphrodite at all costs. Still, he was furious with her. For so long, he had rest assured that she had used some kind of protection that night in London. He hadn't. There hadn't been enough time.

It did little to reassure him that the child wouldn't have been his. Jealous as he was of the other men that had claimed her since their first night together, they'd be his trump card.

"If people find out, a scandal will ensue," Hera said. "The Greeks treat it like some kind of routine procedure, but Aphrodite belongs to the state. Her personal life is of everyone's concern."

He knew that! But still, why hadn't Aphrodite told him? She knew he didn't want children but she ought to let him know at least. Unless he was right to suspect he hadn't been the only man in her life back then.

"I need to find out who the father is so that I can stop him before he sells the story to the press," Hera added.

It was a lame lie and they both knew it. Ares didn't know whether he should believe his mother, but for the time being, he could take advantage of her not suspecting him for being Aphrodite's secret lover.

"You said so yourself," he let out. "Women don't discuss such things with men. Why should she tell me something so personal? I'm only her brother. Ask Eileithyia. She and Aphrodite are also very close."

Hera dreaded the way he pronounced her name. As if she meant the world to him... Normally, she loved to be proven right. But now, she truly wished that she hadn't been. For the first time in years, she had no idea what to do. Except push Ares to the edge: "You know the stance your sister takes on that matter. She doesn't like to gossip or reveal other people's secrets. Plus, she doesn't like this whole... medical process any more than I do."

Ares clenched his fists and his jaw. He was tense. It only proved to Hera what she had prayed wasn't true. At once, she stood up and knelt in front of him. He'd question it but she didn't care. She couldn't think any more straight than he did at that point.

She touched his cheek and looked into his eyes: "If you do happen to hear something, anything... Say, rumours or even her confessing it... do let me know. We have to act quickly."

Ares nodded and Hera stood up. It was a sign that their little discussion had come to an end. Unable to stand the stifling atmosphere in there, Hera rushed out of the room without another word. Ares made sure to lock the door the second she left.

He punched the air. It was the best he could do. He needed to clear his head. Hera obviously knew more than she was letting on. Under normal circumstances, he'd have told her straight out that he wasn't her spy and that he wasn't going to act like her aides. Perhaps he should have done. It would stop his mother from being as suspicious as she was. Yet, he was also mad at Aphrodite. The more he thought about her making such a decision without telling him infuriated him. He wasn't as much of an idiot as Hera thought. Aphrodite couldn't just show up with a baby bump and not expect a scandal to break out. But still, she had had to let him know. After all, he was the baby's father.

Unless...

No, it couldn't be. The child couldn't have been Hephaestus'. Aphrodite herself said that it had been an arranged match. Plus, the way she held her body in his presence, how she always made sure there was some distance between them, the way she spoke about him... No way.

Ares was certain that he had been the one. It was unlikely that she'd have had other lovers, even just for the night, with that packed schedule of hers. She may have been so busy that she had hardly had the time to flirt even. She had taken him hungrily that night, as if she had been wandering in the desert for days and he had been her oasis.

He'd have to ask her straight out. At the hotel. He'd find a way to convince her to take him to the Royal Suite so they could have that conversation in private. He needed a drink, badly, but he knew better than to fix himself one. He had to remain sober for as long as he still could. He had to show Aphrodite that he still had the upper hand.

Meanwhile, Hera was walking along the corridor, holding on to the wall for support. She thought that the air would be less suffocating outside Ares' room but she had been proven wrong. She needed some fresh air and a glass of water. And she had to show up in public in twenty minutes!

She pinched her forearm. Twice. Much as she hated to do that, she had no other choice. She had to talk to Zeus. He had confessed to her the other day that he had been slowly losing his patience with waiting for Aphrodite to give him an answer. The Prime Minister had reassured both of them that Hephaestus had had the Parliament's approval for the time being, although they couldn't announce it without the Palace's permission first. Plus, Hera had also given her consent to the marriage. Dione seemed unwilling to help, everyone else was oblivious to their plans...

She'd ask Zeus to announce the engagement as soon as possible. After all, he had used that little trick to convince her to marry him. She couldn't deny him when the whole country knew about them.

Aphrodite was merely taking advantage of Zeus waiting for her answer. She was going around in circles, postponing it as much as she could, trying to win some time and make them change their minds about the match. But she was certainly smart enough to know that there was no way she'd get out of it. Much as Aphrodite might have hated to admit, even she couldn't defy her father's wishes.

Especially when the world was watching.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Hi, I'm alive. :P I could have written more on the Christmas gala, but I don't have anything really interesting to say, so I'll be throwing small hints of what happened there in the next chapter(s) about Christmas day. But since this scene got pretty long (3,089 words on my laptop), I give it to you as a whole chapter :P I've no idea when I'll update next, so take care until the next time!**

 **And remember, reviews are love :)**

* * *

 _24 December 2006_

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

The sitting room is dark and empty. I shut the door behind me with a trembling hand. Downstairs, the party goes on as normal. The melody of a piano fills the wide and crowded ballroom, only to be drowned down by the animated chatter and the idle laughter... How funny! I used to hate it ten minutes ago but now, I yearn for it.

For some odd reason, it made me feel secure.

Ares turns to look at me. There is something terrifying about him tonight. Since his arrival at the hotel, he has looked absentminded and deeply concerned. Three minutes ago, he walked up to me and held my arm so firmly that I'm certain he's formed a bruise. I asked him to follow me upstairs. I felt like whatever it was that he had to say had better keep away from prying ears. He followed me like an obedient puppy. Now, he clenches his fists and jaw. He punches his hand and mutters something under his breath, avoiding my gaze.

I want to leave. Or to throw him out. I have a terrible gut feeling about all this. A few days ago, I kicked him out and forbade him to come back here, yet now I am the one that opened the door for him to enter! Not literally. My bodyguards are still stationed outside and, as far as I'm concerned, they have the keys. Normally, this slight detail annoys the heck out of me. But today, I feel grateful to whoever came up with it in the first place.

If I scream for help, they'll rush straight in. Ares won't be able to do anything then.

He asks straight away: "Were you pregnant?"

"What?!"

Who told him? Someone must have, surely. Unless... No. He can't have found the pages I tore from that diary. He doesn't speak French. Even if he did, it's been days since he got into a fight with my spying bodyguard!

"I need a straight answer." He walks towards me. I can feel my heart beating loud. "Have you ever been pregnant?"

I take a step back. "This is none of your business!"

Turning my back to him, I open the door to the entrance hall. Hopefully, he'll get the message. But he's faster.

Everything happens in a blur. Next thing I know, my back is against the cold wall, his strong arms restrain me, and his face is so dangerously close to mine that he's the only thing I see. My heart is pounding so wildly now that I'm sure he can hear it. Yet, I don't care. Neither does he.

"You're hurting me," I whisper through clenched teeth. I can feel a slight pinch in my stomach. I don't whimper in pain. He'll think of it as weakness and I cannot afford to give him the upper hand. I can't give him what he's asking for. I've done nothing for which I ought to apologize. If he has a brain in his head, he'd better use it. It'll spare us both the trouble.

"Was it London? Huh?" he asks eagerly, gripping my arms more tightly. "Was it mine?"

It's Hera. She's the one who told him. It all makes so much sense now! But... No, that's impossible. She doesn't know what's happened between us. She can't find out nor should she ever learn the truth! Ares can't have told her. He's not that stupid.

"Who told you?" I mutter.

"It doesn't matter now," he lashes out as he lets go of me. But still, he doesn't set me free. He's keeping me stuck in the corner, towering over me. As if he wants to tell me that I couldn't run away if I tried.

I look down, trying to avoid his piercing stare. I tangle my fingers in the handle of my purse (a replica of the black 1940s original that went with my gown but which was semi-destroyed), trying to hide my nervousness. He doesn't take his eyes off me. I want to tell him to step back, beg him to give me some time and space to breathe, but I can't. I don't want to throw more fuel to the fire, not with him being so damn angry already. "I didn't have a choice."

"You could have told me."

"What for? What would you have done?"

"I'd have helped you!"

Ha!

"How?" I reply. "I'm still single officially. Even if I had kept it, I'd have to survive the scrutiny of having a child out of wedlock. I wouldn't be the first, of course, but... You know how things are in this country. I wouldn't have been treated kindly from the politicians or the press and especially not from the public! And what about you? How long do you think you could pretend to be the child's uncle?"

I'd love to tell him more, about how he'd be so overcome with selfishness to see his child as someone else's that he'd end up revealing everything by himself. But I don't want to cause a scene. Or to stand still while he'll be destroying all the furniture.

He steps back, dropping his hands. Grateful as I am to feel like I can breathe again, I don't feel any safer than before. He keeps staring at me, nodding. I hold the handle tighter. He notices. "That's not the only solution," he mutters.

"Yes!" I yell. "It is! I can't just... disappear without any valid reason! You know how those things work, Ares! The NIS, the Armed Forces, and the Greek Embassy of the country I'm headed to have to be informed! Even if I had told the press that I would be visiting my mother in New York, I couldn't be gone for months on end. Sooner or later, they'd begin to speculate. And then what? If I had the baby in New York, I'd have to give it up for adoption. But then I'd spend the rest of my life wondering where it is and whether it has a good life and a loving home!"

He remains silent but still avoids my gaze. Turning his back to me, he walks around the room for a little while, rubbing his chin. A few moments later he stops and faces the window. Crossing his arms, he furthers: "You could have still told me at least."

"I had thought about it," I snap. "But then I figured I'd better not." He turns to face me. His angry stare would scare me off usually. But now, I just don't care. "I can't risk it, Ares! Sometimes, sacrifices need to be made."

"So all of this... Everything that we've had..."

"It was just two nights."

"Fine. I see. I was just a toy to you! Someone you could spend your time with until you found something more... _exciting_!"

He utters the last word with all the bitterness he could muster. I hurry to explain: "That's not what I mean."

"You were watching me through that keyhole!" he shouts through clenched teeth, approaching me with a very fast pace. "You thought I didn't know, but I did. I could hear you creeping behind that door every single time. As a matter of fact, I was looking forward to it every single day. I enjoyed hearing your giggles and gasps! But I couldn't say anything, especially to you. I thought I was a creep. Every time I cut out your pictures in the magazines, I'd tell myself I was a sicko. What sort of weirdo falls for his own sister? But then London happened and everything came into focus. And that baby-"

"That baby would have been a living, breathing human being!" I snap. His confession has stunned me, but I shouldn't let it show. Easier said than done... I'm determined however not to give him the upper hand. I can't afford it. Damn his stubbornness! "If people found out the truth about its paternity, it'd find itself amidst a huge scandal! I wouldn't wish for anyone to find themselves in such a situation, let alone _my_ child!"

He's stunned: "Your-"

"I have to become a mother one day. The country needs an heir and a spare and it largely relies on me for that. But I get to decide when that time will come. The circumstances have to be ideal. I'll have a husband. Someone who won't put the Monarchy at risk. My children will grow up knowing who their father is. Who their _real_ father is. And they'll be wanted and loved and well tended to because they deserve all the happiness in the world! I want to give them as normal a life as possible. I want them to feel proud that I'm their mother!"

He clenches his fist. I expect him to say something, anything. But instead, he keeps staring at me. There's a prolonged and awkward moment of silence that only the ticking of the clock can interrupt. It's freaking nerve-wracking. It makes me want to scream at him to do something, anything, so that he can prove that he is indeed the great macho man he keeps saying that he is. But all he does is keep staring at me like a bull about to attack. That's it. He doesn't even have the guts to fight!

I scoff. "You men are such selfish creatures! Screw everyone who rains on your golden parade or tries to steal your thunder! You're drawn to the things you can never have and you chase after them with a passion. You're willing to change the way the earth turns if that's the only thing standing in your way. You don't care about the costs, just keep your eyes on the target. It's pathetic! You can't control the weather, so stop acting like you're the masters of the universe!" My heart is beating wildly. I fix my posture, look him dead in the eye, and exhale. "What I do with my own body is no one else's business but mine and mine alone. Who I sleep with, whose babies I carry... Only I get to decide those things!"

I guess I was expecting him to snap at me, to push me against the wall once more and to hurt me so badly that the bruise won't fade for months. But he doesn't move an inch. With an angry voice, he lets out: "So that creep... that ogre..."

Oh, that's nice. Now he's using Hephaestus as a trump card. "Don't call him that."

"He will get to sleep with you," he furthers. "He'll call you his... _wife_... He'll be the father to your children..." He approaches me. My breath quickens. So does my heartbeat. "I wonder, could you even imagine when you were visiting all those children's hospitals that one day you'd get one of your own? Huh? An ill and disfigured baby to take charge of the country once you're gone?"

I bring my arms around my stomach, doubling over. That awful pain has returned. It's as strong and forceful as a period cramp that hits you suddenly. It makes me want to vomit. "Stop that!"

But he doesn't. "What if _that_ baby is a hemophiliac? Huh? Or deformed? What if it takes after its father and has awful birthmarks all over it? Could you even live knowing that you gave birth to such an ugly future monarch? Could you hide your disgust every time you look at it? Or would you cover its face with a blanket while you'd be nursing them because it'd be too damn ugly for you to even look at?!"

I cover my ears. The pain intensifies. It's so awful that I want to burst into tears. At that moment, Ares looks as menacing as ever. Much as I hate to admit, I have been thinking about it too. I feel disgusted at the prospect of sleeping with Hephaestus, even if it's just for reproduction. I've been trying to remind myself that my grandmother and my aunt also did it and it didn't turn out so badly for them, but... They aren't me. I feel repulsed at the mere thought of having to share my bed with him just to provide the country with an heir and a spare.

But Ares is right. I actually dreamed one night that I was in the hospital, shortly after giving birth. The baby in my arms was so ugly that no one dared to look at it. His face - it was a boy - was covered with a blanket when he was brought to me. When I pushed it back to meet him, I was so disgusted by his deformities that I immediately began to nurse him, so that I wouldn't see his face. I woke up covered in sweat and went straight for a shower. I was feeling so dirty that I had to bathe twice. But still, that awful mix of guilt and disgust wouldn't go away. Yet, I do remember feeling that... deep inside, despite my son's hideousness... I loved him. A hundred times more than I loved myself. No matter the hoards of people trying to convince me otherwise.

"Or even worse, what if something went wrong during the procedure and you're left barren?" Ares keeps on yapping. He's practically towering over me now. "Then your inability to have children will overshadow everything else you've accomplished! That will be your downfall. And you'll spend the rest of your life regretting that you didn't pick up the phone to tell me that you were pregnant with _my_ child that for sure would look far better than all of Hephaestus' clones that he'll plant in you!"

I slap him. Right across the face. I hit him so hard that my palm hurts. He leans to the side, hiding his nose with his hand. We don't speak or move. I'm shaking all over. It's the tension. Ares, too, looks stunned. He lowers his hand, that is stained with a few drops of blood. The blow I had given him the night he had caused a scene outside the Royal Suite had been soft as a caress in comparison. I've given him a nosebleed. He looks at me with such rage that I instinctively step back. I stop once I feel the cold wall against my back. I don't say anything. I can't.

He nods. "I had promised to keep you away from the witches," he says with a sour, hoarse voice. "Little did I know, I was actually trying to save you from yourself."

I look away, shutting my eyes and feeling the first few tears roll down my cheeks. I don't know what got into me. He walks to the door and I can hear him say sarcastically: "Your Highness!"

Soon enough, I can hear the door to the entrance hall open. Then the main entrance. The air suddenly feels less suffocating but I still can't breathe. The cramp returns, stronger than before. I bring one hand to my stomach and the other to my mouth. Bending forward, I burst into tears, resting against the wall.

I shouldn't have hit him. I should have turned my back to him instead and stepped out of the room. Or better yet, I could have just shouted at him to leave. But whom am I kidding? Ares has never been the man to listen to what you have to say. Words mean nothing to him. Pretty sure he'll have forgotten everything that we said by tomorrow. But I'm not like that. Words can hurt, even if they're not about you. Every time Ares offended Hephaestus, I felt like he was also insulting me. And I hated it. I feel empathy towards Hephaestus. I'm starting to warm up to him!

"Your Highness?"

This isn't Ares. His voice doesn't sound so gentle and he has been so genuinely concerned. I look up to come face to face with one of my bodyguards. It's not the spying one, thank god.

He kneels next to me (somehow, I ended up lying on the floor) and hesitates as to whether he should touch me or not. But he does want to help, so he takes away a handkerchief from his inner pocket and hands it to me.

"Thank you," I mutter. "I'm fine. Just leave me alone please."

He gets up and I look away. I know that he bows before he leaves the room. Shortly after I hear the entrance door shutting, muffled barks fill the room.

Blanche!

Slowly, I get up and walk to my bedroom. As soon as I open the door, Blanche jumps on me and then, standing on her hind legs, she licks my hands, arms, and dress. Her tail keeps wagging low, a sign that she's sensing my distress. Kneeling in front of her, I begin to pet her.

"Hey, little girl!" I say sniffing and trying my best to sound cheerful. "I'm here now. It'll be all right, everything will be fine!"

She falls on her back, eager for some belly rubs and I let out a small laugh.

I wish that I could just escape them all and take her for a late-night walk. It would cheer up both of us. I can just change into something more comfortable and leave from the back door. But I forgot. This place is like a fortress tonight. All of Athens' high society is here. At least the place is so crowded that no one will notice mine and Ares' absence. Or else...

Wouldn't be such a party for a great party like that to end in tragedy?

Ironically enough...


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE (for those who celebrate). Phew, looks like I did upload it just in time after all :P I'm so sorry it took me so long to update, but I've been awfully busy and so my writing got a bit rusty I'm afraid. But during my long break from writing, I continued to do research for the story and so I finally have the visuals for the Private Quarters (and a floor plan scribbled rather awkwardly in a notebook somewhere), so there are going to be a few changes in their description in the previous chapters and the way that I will be describing it from now on. I will go back and change it at some point though. I hope.  
**

 **A few explanatory things: 1) The Civil List = basically the amount of taxpayer money that royal families receive each year. It varies according to country because it depends a lot on the country's general wealth (i.e Norway is wealthier than Spain, so the Norwegian royals receive more money than their Spanish cousins). Some countries don't include all royals in the Civil List but only the King, Queen, and the heir, but that depends on the Constitution. Since Greece's economy is closer to Spain's than Norway's, I'm basing their "salaries" on those of the Spanish royals. For clarity's sake, Zeus receives 15,000 euros (** **17,014 USD) each month, so that means 180,000 euros (** **204,165 USD) annually. It doesn't sound regal, but the royals also have private funds (e.g. investments, other businesses etc), so they're not exactly 'welfare recipients'.  
**

 **2) Tatoi: there's huge lack of info about the palace and the estate, but as you may have gathered so far (and what I've found), it's basically a huge farm: 47,000 stremmata (Greek measure of unit, equivalent to circa 10,000 acres) deep in the forest, with a small village that's basically a farm unit, all part of the royal estate. There was also a small hotel in Tatoi (back in the 1890s - 1900s) which non-royal wealthy people could visit as long as they didn't stay for more than 48 hours (King's orders). There was also a Crown Princely palace (burned down, then demolished in the 1930s I think). The Palace itself is more like a mansion than a palace, although it's declared as such. If you want to get a view of what it looked like, you may google either Tatoi Palace or Farm Palace in Peterhof, Russia (which was used as the blueprint for Tatoi). I'm taking some artistic liberties in the amount of rooms it had, since I couldn't find that info anywhere. But everything else (the cinema, the King's office, the sound-proved room, the dining room, the village etc) are factual.**

 **3) I may have gotten a bit too excited with describing Greek Christmas traditions there :P But don't blame me, it's the Christmas spirit :P**

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 _25 December 2006_

 _10:30 AM_

 _Syntagma Square, Central Athens_

People were passing them by, shaking hands and wishing them a Merry Christmas. All of them were just random faces they would never see again, mere strangers amongst the crowd taking the stage just to kiss the back of their hands and bow or curtsy awkwardly to them. It was them they had come to see.

The most famous family in Greece. A symbol of unity and togetherness, the symbolic connection of the past to the present and the future. Everyone felt connected to them because everyone knew them.

Or so they thought.

Ares just wanted to leave. He felt exposed sitting on the stage, with the world's eyes on him, surrounded by his closest family and with her right in front of him.

Like a beautiful curse...

The 'meet-and-greet' ceremony was a tradition that Zeus had introduced early on in his reign as a way to bring the Royal Family closer to the people. It was meant to symbolize equality and togetherness. The greatest joke of all time. It was moments like this that made Ares realize just how big the gap between the royals and the rest of the Greeks was. Seeing all these people dressed casually (some were even wearing jeans and sports jackets) came in stark contrast with the fancy fairytale that his own family sold. Like actors on a play, they had to stand up, look pretty, and pretend that everything was fine in their lives. In short, they had to sell a lie in order to survive.

It reminded him of what someone had told him once. They were standing behind a semi-transparent curtain. People could see what was going on inside, but they could not get a clear picture. But the sight was so magical, so filled with colours, music, and magic, that no one dared push it back to get a better look. As if they knew that drawing the curtains would distort the magic and make them face the truth: that all the dancers were, in fact, perfectly tuned marionettes.

Today was one of those days. In more ways than one.

Christmas for them had began with an early morning but marathon service at the Metropolitan Cathedral of the Annunciation - the grandest one in Greece. Three insufferable hours of endless Byzantine hymns sung in ancient Greek by the Archbishop of Athens and All Greece (to give his full title) and as many senior-ranking bishops and reverends as they could get had made Ares want to stab himself from boredom. For a minute, he had cursed his father for abolishing the custom that royal men should attend the service in full military uniform. His sword would have been most useful. He could have amused himself with its cutting edges or at least clung on to it for dear life instead of awkwardly crossing his hands in front of him. To make matters worse, the Prime Minister with his wife and his ministers with all of their spouses were there too, as were the TV cameras that captured every moment of the service and every corner of the interior of the church. Once again, the whole of the Royal Family had made for quite the interesting picture to capture... Yet he had been thankful for that one. It had made it easier for him to avoid her. Aphrodite that is. She had been standing there, right in front of him and next to their father, trying to conceal her own boredom or desire to yawn.

As soon as that torture had been over, a large motorcade had been waiting them outside. Some of the cars would take the lesser royals to Tatoi whereas the King, the Queen, and their children - bar Hebe and Eileithyia - would drive all the way to Syntagma Square, where they would take their seats to a small stage built especially for them right in front of the grand Christmas tree in the centre of the marble square. Facing the imposing building of the Hellenic Parliament as it proudly stood behind the marble staircase that marked the beginning of the Square and the long boulevard that was now mostly deserted, the Royal Family would spend the next two hours greeting strangers and looking like they were having a good time.

They even looked every bit the part. The King and his adopted son were dressed in smart, three-piece day suits complete with a tie and cuff links. As for the Queen and the Princesses, they were dressed in simple knee-length day skirt-suits, high heels, and heavy coats. True to form, Her Majesty had also matched her ivory outfit with a golden pillbox hat and a French bun. Hera and Aphrodite were sitting by Zeus and right next to each other. As for him, he was standing next to Athena and Eris in the second row of chairs.

Ares didn't know why he had been so surprised to find such big crowds today. It had not been any different than all the previous years. Syntagma Square was always the very heart of the city and Christmas Day was no exception. Normally, people came over to meet with their friends at the surrounding cafeterias or to shop at Ermou street right behind them. But today, that the stores were shut, the people of Athens seemed more drawn to the decorations. the Christmas Carousel was a short distance away as large, colourful, and full of music as Ares could remember it. Unlike them, however, that remained the same, old and boring big music box year after year. Yet all those kids didn't seem to care. They all just wanted to get on it and join yet another merry-go-round. As for their parents, they could find that much-needed coffee in the Christmas market nearby. The teasing mixed scent of sweet, fresh-baked crepes, honeyed almonds, roasted chestnuts, hot chocolate, coffee, and wine was teasing everyone's nostrils and even the Royal Family had to resist the urge to let their empty stomachs growl in excited anticipation. (Good for them, though, they would visit it right after this whole handshaking party was over. Tasting the delicacies was in order at such events.)

The Christmas melodies from the Carousel were filling the breezy Athenian air. They also mixed perfectly with the laughter and the murmurs from the spectators, the loud talking of the reporters - who had to capture that tradition on camera as well - and the occasional wailing of babies or dogs barking. You'd think that even the stray dogs of Athens would stop hunting for food or some genuine love just to get a glimpse of the Royal Family. Well, who could blame them? They made for quite the attraction.

But none of that mattered to Ares. All he could see was her.

There must have been a reason she had worn red. He had read in an interview of hers once that she had always loved to display meanings via her choice of clothes. As far as he was concerned, red signified the extremes - violence on the one hand and seduction on the other. It was clearly a message for him. And with her blond curls falling softly on her shoulders and back, he couldn't help comparing it to melted gold dissipating into lava.

He was being ridiculous. Maybe she had simply been trying to be in a festive mood. After all, everything was so frighteningly red during Christmas. Even the lucky charms that the King was handing out to all those strangers who shook his hand (some even kissed the back of it) and greeted him awkwardly were adorned with a red and golden ribbon.

But something in him kept telling him otherwise. She was trying to send him a message. That she had gone over him, perhaps. Well, he wouldn't be surprised. He wouldn't have been the first man she'd have trapped in her nets just for the joy of seeing him suffer.

Ares hated it. All of it. It made him feel like an animal in a circus. He just needed something to happen. Anything. All those lively discussions, the utmost joy and the festive atmosphere made him sick to his stomach. Or perhaps it was also the realization that, despite everything, he was still an outsider.

He didn't belong on that stage, right behind her. He should have been amongst the crowd, dressed in his blue jeans and coming with his friends just for the sake of trying to charm the Crown Princess. In that parallel universe, they'd have made a bet and he'd have been determined to win it. He'd have put on his best perfume, mustered his most enchanting smile... She'd have been so intrigued by him that she'd have raised holy hell on finding out what his name was and whether he was still single. That way, he would have had the upper hand and not the other way around. Yes, things would have been simpler that way. Easier too. If something had gone wrong, at least they'd have the memories without the regret. They'd have been allowed the freedom to move on with their lives.

Or maybe not. He had always been told that we get the life that we're given for a reason. Perhaps his was to always be in Aphrodite's shadow. To watch every day of her life, to know her better than anyone else had ever had...

Suddenly, a baby's cries filled the air. Coming back to reality, Ares saw two embarrassed young parents trying to calm down their little girl. Her pacifier had fallen off apparently and she looked young. About a couple months old.

Aphrodite didn't waste a second. Not caring about ruining her dress, she stood up and held the baby in her arms. Ares kept his eyes fixed on the tiny girl's face. Within seconds, her cries had magically stopped. Aphrodite had been holding her head protectively with one hand and with the other, she was securing her close to her. The baby kept staring at her in wonder, as if she had been the most wonderful thing in the world. Seconds later, she burst out laughing and brought her tiny hands to the Crown Princess' face. Aphrodite then rested her head on her shoulder and rubbed her back, to ask her parents about her name and age. Wobbling, the little one managed to raise her head just a little bit. Her and Ares' eyes met and he looked away.

Perhaps Aphrodite had been right. They could never get one of their own. He'd love their child too much that he'd have destroyed everyone who dared claim fatherhood over them.

Athena's chuckles brought him back to reality. Seeing his parents also laughing at the sudden antic, he tried to join but only half-heartedly. Aphrodite handed the baby back to her parents. The little one protested a little until she realized that she was back into her mother's arms.

The young pair left the stage and Aphrodite sat back down on her chair. Not bearing to look at her, Ares looked to his left to the Grande Bretagne. The night before, he had sought solace on its roof, savoring that much-needed smoke. After he had confronted Aphrodite, he had escaped to the rooftop through the fire escape. He had needed to have a smoke badly. From up there, he had taken a while to enjoy the breathtaking view. Athens really looked magnificent that night, with its endless blend of the yellow street lights and the golden and silver rays of the decorations on the streets.

But now, he could feel someone watching from above, mocking him proudly with her ravenous stare. He knew who it was. Only the day before, he had been faced with her very force right there, in that god-damned suite. Hiding her hair under a big hat and her face behind large sunglasses, Dione was standing on the balcony. She had seen everything.

He fixed his posture, as if that'd make him feel less exposed. He kept staring ahead, trying to pay no attention to her. That woman scared him. If her daughter was fire, then she was ice. Rather, she was like an iceberg, keeping most of herself underwater. Only Aphrodite could melt her or see through her. He had witnessed for himself the day before, in that god-damned suite, how she always kept her cards close to her chest yet attacked carefully and steadily. Her presence was so intimidating that he had never felt so uncomfortable in his entire life!

Everyone in his family had been talking about the reason she had come to Greece so abruptly. Aphrodite was a great alibi but Ares couldn't help feeling that her travel had something to do with him as well.

Today she'd join them for the festivities. Perhaps he should use it to his advantage. It'd be so much easier for him to treat Aphrodite like his sister knowing that her mother was around. Like she was yet another Athena, Eris, or Eileithyia.

But she was not. She could never be.

And he despised her for that.

* * *

 _11:30 AM_

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

" _A smart girl leaves before she is left."_

This Marilyn Monroe quote has always been my motto. Funny story actually, I had actually even written it all over the vanity mirror when I was twelve and spending the summer in my maternal family's home in the French Riviera. At that age, I was so into her that I'd copy her mannerisms and expressions. I nearly styled my hair after her, too. The fascination had started after Mother had given me her biography for my eleventh birthday. It gave both the Palace and the Oceanides family a heart attack, but for different reasons. The former worried about my image (poor Marilyn is still viewed merely as a sex symbol in Greece) and the latter feared that I might lose my very own vibrant and feisty personality. I guess they have somehow been training me to become a levelheaded feminist since early on in life. It all ended when Grandma Tethys eventually told me, "If you want to admire her, fine. But for heaven's sake, don't let it rid you of your own uniqueness!"

And then she proceeded to give me a giant copy of the iconic picture of Marilyn in that flowing white dress as a Christmas gift.

But that is not the point.

If I had that mirror in front of me right now, I'd add Tethys Oceanides' quote right underneath that of Norma Jeane. And then I'd take a step back, draw a deep breath, read it all over again, and then just spread my wings and fly away.

Then why the heck am I crying over yet another guy?

I'm not very much in the mood for Christmas today, as you can imagine. That nasty headache still hasn't gone away, I woke up with black circles under my eyes, and everyone might as well be speaking Chinese. Try as I might to figure things out, I don't know where to start or which way I should go. The more I try to answer to the millions of questions that have been buzzing in my head since yesterday, the more confused I become.

Did Ares and I break up? Did we ever have a real relationship to begin with? What happened between us feels more like a one-night-stand which had gone so well that we repeated it after we had missed each other enough. At the end of the day, though, he's still my brother.

Or isn't he anymore?

But those two nights we spent together must have meant something to both of us. He made love to me like he had lusted for me all his life. I'm not ashamed to admit that I felt the same way. But still. Was it true love that united us or was it solely based on lust? Growing up, we'd treat each other like the forbidden fruit we were so desperate to eat. But once we had had a bite or two, we threw it away in disgust.

Now we're contemplating whether we'll pick it up again.

I'm sorry for all those metaphors. It happens a lot when I get emotional.

Mother always says I should become a poet. Maybe one day, I will. For now, though, I have other things to worry about.

Ares will never be out of my life. Ever. For better or worse, we're the only family he has. Despite everything, we still have grown up together. He'll always be a Prince of Greece. But I'll become a Queen of the Hellenes. And then the fun begins...

I don't expect that people will ever find out the truth about us. Our "sibling" closeness has always fascinated everyone in this country and, quite possibly, the rest of the world. If I cast him aside somehow or denounce him from his title, I will certainly raise a few eyebrows and an awful lot of questions.

In the worst case scenario, I'll have to spend the rest of my life tolerating him in events we'll have to attend together and hope that no one will ever discover the truth. No, wait. That is actually be the best possible turn of events. If the worst is meant to happen, then... I don't know. I can't think that clearly.

All I know for sure is that I don't want to go to Tatoi. At all. A room full of my royal relatives is actually the last damn thing I need right now. They'll all be throwing me pitiful looks and asking if I'm alright. Not to mention that I'll be smelling his own cologne, lingering in the air...

Normally, I just turn the page after a breakup. One guy gone, in comes another. Simple as that. The story is finished as soon as I add the poor man in my list of lovers - along with a grade for their overall performance - and then I let it rot in the lingerie drawer until the next time. For the record, this is also where I keep the pages I tore from my private diary, the ones in which I chronicle the day I committed the abortion.

I saw it in my dreams again. That's why I couldn't sleep. I kept wandering around in the suite like a ghost in my white flannel gown, staring out at the empty boulevard from the windows. But I stick to my beliefs. I'll never regret it. I loved that baby enough to not curse it into a terrible life. Even if Ares hadn't been the father but someone else, a random strangers or some guy I dated for long enough, I'd still have done the same thing.

"I will speak to your father tonight."

Mother's gentle voice brings me back to reality. She's going to make him some kind of an offer, but I'm afraid I don't know any more than you do. She'll tell me once everything has been said and done, she said.

There she is now, sitting on the side of my bed in her lilac Oscar de la Renta skirt suit and matching jacket. She has removed her high heels and holds her cup of coffee in one hand and the saucer on the other. And then there's me, the very personification of a walking mess, setting down my lipstick and taking one last look of my reflection in the mirror.

At least my hair looks good...

The Oceanides women have taught me that red lipstick, high heels, and a fancy dress can solve every problem. It rather sounds like they were educating me to become a Parisian courtesan of some kind. They could have also simply told me to be confident no matter what. But, they're not exactly known for being clear when they can be wordy.

Just pretend for a moment here that everything I say today makes sense. Otherwise, I'm going to be the most obnoxious person you've ever met. Unless you bring along food. Then I'll love you forever.

Frankly, if it was up to me, I'd change into my pajamas and stay in bed all day with Blanche in tow to keep me company. But I can't tell Mother that. True to her and her sisters' values, she rushed in with that well-known, storm-like force of hers and immediately fretted upon seeing Anna lay out a pair of blue jeans, sneakers, and a plain baggy sweater for me. And indeed, so bewildered was she, that poor Anna had to follow her to my boudoir so that she could carry the clothes Mother picked out instead. It's still too early in the day for me to mess with her, so I just let her win. That's how I somehow ended up in a D&G pair of black jeans, a Gucci black top, an Alexander McQueen red coat, and a pair of maroon Chanel over-knee boots.

I guess I shouldn't remind her that Tatoi is in the middle of the forest then. She'll snap back that Stansworth Hall (her parents' estate in Surrey) is one big happy farm as well and, by the way, just because I feel like a moving wreck doesn't mean I also have to look like one!

In short: don't mess with Dione Oceanides. You've already lost.

Her own sense of glamour might be miles away from mine, but this is still the same woman who had decorated my bedroom in her New York home with pictures of Old Hollywood divas because she wanted me to be one of them when I'd grow up.

Apparently, she was going for Katherine Hepburn and Lauren Bacall. She ended up with a wild mix of pretty much everyone and everything.

I know what you think. 'That explains a lot.'

Well I guess so. Maybe.

As if that wasn't enough, though, Mother also opened the little suitcase with all the outfits I'd take with me to Tatoi. When I said we're spending the whole day there, I meant it. We're actually taking out outfits with us. We're not going to need much. Just something for lunch, then for the afternoon walk, and then a gown for dinner, along with the necessary accessories. The evening dresses will arrive in suit bags via helicopter after lunch. As for our hair and makeup, there is a small hairdressing salon in one of the rooms at the Palace there so that we can get ready in peace.

When precious, exhausted, and criminally underpaid Anna was done, Mother nodded in approval. Of course she would. I had actually chosen those outfits two months ago, so that Anna and 'Ursula' would have plenty of time to prepare them.

As you can guess, she is also bringing along her own little suitcase. Both hers and mine are currently at the entrance hall to make sure that my bodyguards will remember to carry them to the car when we leave.

She hasn't asked what exactly happened between me and Ares. I told her during breakfast that we had had a fight, but that was it. She doesn't know why or what for. Instead, she changed the subject and told me all that she and Hera discussed during their audience before adding that she didn't really care about her or her opinions. She was more excited to see Queen Rhea and Uncle Poseidon again. Well of course. For some reason that shall forever remain a mystery, these two are good friends. I can't say the same about Amphitrite, though. She's always been the ringleader of Team Hera. Or Team Peacock. It goes by both names. She might also probably be her undercover spy. I don't know why but I don't really trust her. There is something about her 'Miss Goody Two Shoes' attitude that seems toMy hair is styled in a messy ponytail which I destroy at once so good to be true...

Plus, she's Poseidon's wife. She chose to be. Let that sink in.

So, needless to say that her and Peacock will be keeping a close eye on us two then. All. Day. Long.

Kill me now.

I take another look of myself in the mirror. I destroy my messy ponytail at once. I feel safer when I wear my hair down. I like the light feeling that they give me, as if I'm a bird set free... I shake my head to give it its lost volume back. Now, messy curls fall on my shoulders. This style is in perfect harmony with the rest of the outfit. Like a warrior queen on her way to the battlefield.

Or like Athena on a normal, working day.

Oh geez, my situation's getting worse.

Mother walks up to me. Running her fingers gently over my forehead, she pushes back a few stray strands of hair. It's her own, wordless way to say she loves it better this way. Anna is in the boudoir, tidying up the disaster that Hurricane Dione caused in its passing.

I can't keep it in any longer. Holding Mother's hand tight, I look into her eyes. They're filled with worry.

"He knows."

I don't need to tell her who I'm referring to. She has already realized what I mean. She is trying to avoid my gaze, but that little gleam in her stare reveals that she looks... happier? Calmer? If I didn't know any better, I'd say she is happy that Ares and I are no longer together.

Of that, I can be sure.

She takes another sip of her coffee. Staring blankly at the wall ahead, she draws a deep breath. Anna, sensing the thick air that has arisen, closes the door to the boudoir, giving Mother and I enough privacy to discuss that.

"You've done the right thing," she says eventually. "Your body is your own. You shouldn't let some manly selfishness and possessiveness get in the way of your very own happiness."

She must have repeated those words at least a thousand times since that day. This is also basically the entire rhetoric of the Gynae Foundation. Mother had actually made a similar statement in a speech and she's become known as a feminist icon ever since. But that's not the point.

I don't know whether those were exactly the kind of words I needed to hear. The more I hear them, really, the more I feel that they have absolutely nothing to do with me or with my situation. Heck, I don't even know I'm crying!

Mother has made me realize it by wiping my tears with her soft fingertips.

"I know it may sound ridiculous," she furthers. "But pretend he's your brother. Just for today. However, if you really need to cry, I am certain that you will find an empty room. The Palace is certainly big enough!"

"I just want to scream at his face, slap him so hard that he knows how much I hurt, throw things on the walls, just... do something!"

As I'm saying that, I clench both my hands in fists and dig my nails so deep into my skin that they've certainly left a mark. Mother kneels before me, taking both of my hands in hers. "You will do it once we're back in the hotel. We could leave from Tatoi earlier, if that is what you wish. To be honest, I'm not thrilled about them entertaining me either. But I received a personal invitation from the King and I am related to you. So, you may say I am not the only one in trouble today!"

"I hate having to put on a brave face. Everyone keeps praising it, but it's just pretending."

She nods. "Just remember what Marilyn used to say."

I give her a faint smile. "A smart girl leaves before she is left."

"Exactly! At the end of the day, he's yet another guy."

So far so good. But I'm still a mess. The greatest one in all of history by the look of it.

In fact, the longer I think about it, the more I feel like I've failed.

Simply put, I'm not smart enough it seems. Otherwise, absolutely nothing would've happened between Ares and me.

But I'll be fine, I guess. I mean I've definitely survived far worse than this.

Or maybe not. We'll just wait and see.

I'm sure of one thing, though. Christmas is going to be extremely long this year.

* * *

 _A guest room, Palace of Tatoi, Acharnes, East Attica_

The radio was tuned to the only station they could find that didn't play Christmas songs. Hebe had protested, even presenting Eileithyia with a cassette of children choirs singing the carols. But, eventually, she had to deal with the fact that her older sister had grown sick and tired of the festive spirit. "All the Christmas songs they're playing are about break-ups!"

"But they're happy ones!" Hebe argued.

"You can't have a happy separation."

"Why not?"

"Because it's an oxymoron."

"What's an oxymoron?"

"It's ironic, it doesn't stick well... Now come here, let me fix your ponytail!"

They had arrived in Tatoi straight after the service at the Metropolitan Cathedral was over, along with their aunts, uncles, cousins, Eris, and their grandmother. (King Cronus had, not surprisingly, once again turned down the invite). While the grown-ups were enjoying each other's company over a much-needed cup of coffee awaiting the arrival of Ares, Athena, Aphrodite, and Zeus and Hera - in that order -, the younger ones were enjoying the crisp but sunny weather by playing hide and seek in the woods along with some children of the staff, who lived in the nearby village. Triton had been the only one that hadn't joined them, preferring to spend some time with the Chief Forester's fifteen-year-old daughter, much to his sister's dislike. Since last year, every time they'd come to Athens, her brother would always spend more time with that girl than with them and she couldn't understand why her parents grinned like idiots every time she complained about it. But today she had been busier keeping an eye on Hebe, who had, somehow, tripped and fallen face-down into thick mud, ruining her fuchsia dress and blue coat. It was only after the Chief Forester and the Chief Equerry had discovered her that the children had found out that the brown dirt all over Hebe was, in fact, horse manure.

Within minutes, a jeep had been summoned to bring the two Princesses back into the Palace (which was a forbidden realm to the other children). Although the drive was short, even the people inside the car couldn't help holding their noses and grimacing in disgust. Hebe's nanny had been given the day off but, thankfully, a maid and Eileithyia had come to the rescue at once. After they had drawn her a hot bath and thrown away her dirty clothes, they had dressed her into a velvet emerald green dress with puffed sleeves and a white shirt collar, complete with white stockings and black ballerina shoes. It had belonged to Eris in the late 1980s and, since it had been kept in an old chest since she had outgrown it, it stunk of naphthalene. But that was the least of Hebe's problems:

"I look like one of Santa's elves!" she complained as she was sitting on her sister's lap, looking at herself in the full length mirror.

"But you're so cute!" Eileithyia exclaimed cheerfully.

Hebe tugged on her collar. "I don't like it!"

"Pretend that you do and I won't tell Mother you were chasing after the butter maker's daughter in the stables!" Eileithyia said, pulling her sister's hair so that she can style it in a ponytail. "You know how much she hates it when we get friendly with the staff!"

"But she handed out gifts to them two weeks ago!"

"That's tradition, honey. That's different."

Each year, two weeks before Christmas, the King and Queen would host a ceremony in the Royal Palace, in which they would hand out presents to their team of staff - from their Private Secretaries to the assistant cooks and gardeners. Then, a detailed list of the items given and their respective prices would be presented to the King, who would sign it so that it could then be delivered to the Prime Minister, as part of the government's control of the Royal Family's finances, since they had to pay for those via their royal appanage.

"Either way," Eileithyia furthered, "just because it's a game, doesn't mean you shouldn't watch where you're going."

But Hebe had grown tired of her sister's complaints. "She chased after me first!"

Eileithyia was about to give her sister another lesson in good behaviour, but the door opened and Eris hurriedly burst in. She asked Eileithyia straight out. "What were you doing in Aphrodite's room last night?"

Her sudden invasion stunned both of her sisters. Eileithyia had stepped into the Royal Suite during the Christmas Eve gala because she was worried about Aphrodite. She had seen Ares rush out of the elevator and go out, fuzzing with the inner pockets of his jacket in search for his pack of cigarettes. But Aphrodite had gone AWOL. When she had gone into the Royal Suite, she had seen Aphrodite lying on the floor like a ball, holding her stomach, eyes red from crying, and her makeup completely ruined. Despite her protests to leave her alone, Eileithyia helped her stand up, gave her a glass of water, and convinced her to help her. Whatever had happened to her must have been awful and she had known better than to ask any questions.

Hebe, oblivious everything that had happened behind the scenes the night before, pointed her finger at Eris. "Gossip, gossip!"

Hands on hip, Eris turned at her baby sister. "You are staying here on the condition that you don't speak!" Hebe moved a 'zip my lips' move. Scoffing at her sister's childishness, Eris turned to Eileithyia.

"Nothing," Eileithyia replied. "I just helped her fix her makeup! She told me what to do. Then I comforted her. She even asked me if I had ever fallen in love!"

Eris chuckled. "Good one. Now, tell me the truth."

Eileithyia had enough. As long as she could remember, Eris had always underestimated her. When they were little, she would scold her about her long nose and her big eyes. Then she kept reminding her how she hated her soft voice and her "homely" style. Much as Hera disliked Eris' attitude, she often took her side on that topic. Eileithyia knew that she was ugly compared to her sisters (especially Aphrodite and Athena), but much as she had convinced herself that her sister was just mad, sometimes her nasty comments did get to her. She translated Eris' chuckle as: 'You don't even know how to wear your own lipstick!'

"Learn Chinese or something!" she yelled. Both Eris and Hebe were caught by surprised. Eris took a step back and Hebe got up instinctively. Eileithyia added: "You're my sister and I love you. But stop ruining other people's lives because you can't get yours in order! Since you've broken up with that... stockbroker, financier... whatever and you've been mean ever since!"

Eris had no idea what to say. If Hebe wasn't watching, she'd have slapped Eileithyia right across the face. How dare she remind her of that man! He had broken her heart. And it had hurt. Bad. Worse than Aphrodite had made it seem. He had been a financier, a few years older than her, and she had met him in a night club. Things between them had become so serious that he had met the Royal Family. In fact, the Palace had nearly issued an engagement announcement, despite her parents' vocal disapproval. Eris had been too young, she still had her whole life ahead of her, she hadn't needed to be in a rush to marry... But the press had told a different story. Pictures of them holidaying in the Greek islands and eating out in restaurants had graced the gossip columns, they had been photographed and interviewed for major Greek lifestyle magazines, everyone had been expecting hers to be the first royal wedding of her generation... Until, one day, just like that, he had disappeared. He hadn't even bothered to let her know and he wouldn't answer her persistent phone calls. Two weeks later, Zeus had come to her room with an NIS agent. They had presented her with a classified detailed report on him. His father had been working for the dictatorial regime in the 1970s and he had been accused for the execution of over a hundred Communists during that time. As for the jerk himself, he had been involved in a money laundering scheme and had fled London (where he lived) for Mexico to avoid trial and imprisonment. The MI5 and the Hellenic Royal Police had been after him. The Palace had managed to avoid scandal by issuing a statement saying that the Princess had been oblivious to the truth about him and that she had broken off her relationship with him as soon as she had found out. Much as Eris wanted to talk about it with someone, she couldn't. Her parents had refused to discuss it any further and her mother even had kept reminding her that she had grander plans for her, a prince perhaps? Having no one else to turn to (Aphrodite was too self-centered, Athena too intelligent, Ares was a man, Eileithyia knew nothing about love, and Hebe was too young), she had turned all that frustration and heartbreak into anger, fury, and a constant need to see the people around her as messy as she had been. Deep down, she knew that it was wrong, but she couldn't help it. It's who she was.

"You're a good person deep down, Eris," Eileithyia added. "You're just jealous. I don't know if it's Aphrodite you're after but... if you come to terms with the fact that you'll never be like her, you will become much happier!"

Eris had no idea what to say. Instead, she excused herself and walked away. Hebe, standing by the radio that was still playing random everyday songs, commented: "She needs a man." Eileithyia gave her a bewildered look. Looking at her shoes, Hebe added: "That's what Aphrodite says."

"Don't tell her that," Eileithyia replied.

Hebe rubbed her foot against the floor. "What does it mean?"

"You're too young to know."

* * *

 _11:00 AM_

 _Aphrodite's car_

The car is driving on a narrow sand road, surrounded by endless rows of pine trees. Pop music is playing softly on the radio but neither Mother and I are paying any attention to it. We're too busy to pay any attention to our surroundings or to care about what is expecting us to the end of the road. The only one who is really excited to be here is Blanche. As soon as she realized when we were going, she started to jump up and down in the car and in our laps, shredding white hair all over our clothes. She actually rather reminds me of me when I was little.

Let's just look past my own issues for a moment so that I can explain to you what is going on. We've just entered the estate of Tatoi. This vast estate of 11,600 acres is securely hiding among a thick forest. You could say it's a small world in its own right. On first glance, it does not seem reminiscent of or suitable for royalty. It is practically a very large farm, complete with cows, goats, sheep, and horses. The small village is scattered all over the estate, making sure that the Royal Family is well tended to, that the forest won't burn down, and that the Palace will stay in place next time we care to occupy it again.

After all, none of them would have been here if it wasn't for the Royal Family's former summer residence.

Kept at a safe distance from the farm and the village, it is surrounded with everything that the Royal Family needs to feel at home. Climb down the stone double staircase in the garden (with a small fountain in the middle of it) and you go to the swimming pool. A short distance away, you can find the tennis and basketball courts. If you turn to the left, you will see a small forest. The Royal Cemetery is right behind it, along with a small church for the funerals and the christenings. The garage and the residence staffers' homes are on our right. You can just jump into a jeep and from there, you can go to the helipad. That's when the Palace gardens end and the farm begins. In case you get lost, follow the smell of the horses. That's how you know you're in the village now.

But! Do not let the name fool you. Tatoi is a Palace only in name. In fact, it is a large mansion or an oversized winter chalet made exclusively of bricks and stones. Built in the early twentieth century, it is a replica of the Farm Palace in Peterhof, Russia. Ironically enough, my ancestors wanted to occupy it during the summer months, at a time when Greece still hadn't taken its current form, the Greek islands belonged to other countries, and only half of the modern mainland count count as the "official" Greek state. (The story is long, complicated, and a bit blurry, so we'll just have to keep it there).

By the way, the Palace is also encircled by the ruins of a hotel and some two-story house intended to be the Crown Princely Palace, because at some point they were considering to turn it into the full-time royal residence. It didn't work because it was too far away from Athens. No wonder why Athena made herself at home in there then. She wants to avoid people as much as possible, this one.

Also, random funny story. Once, the U.S. President and his wife visited Thunder and Peacock in here when they had come for a state visit a few years ago. He had described it as a mix between a fancier Camp David and a greener Texas ranch. (He actually was raised in that state, so he must know what he's talking about). Now, my royal distant cousins over there in Britain had also described it as a miniature Sandringham. That's where they love to spend their own Christmases. Yes, they're always kind like that. Especially when they don't like you.

Just kidding.

Back to the lecture on architecture. The Palace of Tatoi is four stories high - including the underground floor and the attic. Go to the ground floor and you will find two drawing rooms, an enormous dining room (the only room in the house that actually is reminiscent of a palace) with a sound-proved room next to it, the King's Office, a sitting room in the entrance hall, and a WC for the guests. On the second floor, you get separate bedrooms for the King and Queen and plenty of guest rooms, all complete with marble fireplaces and with an en-suite bathroom and walk-in closet. Go to the underground floor and you will find there the first-ever home cinema in Greece, if not Europe (a gift from the Greek founder of a very famous American movie productions company), and a special bunker just in case there's an emergency and we need to be safe. On top of it, there's an attic which also served as Zeus Almighty's bedroom when he was little. Nowadays, we keep some of our old possessions in there for archival purposes. To make matters worse, they all bear the same mark: the Royal Family's Coat of Arms along with the words _ΒΑΣΙΛΙΚΟ ΚΤΗΜΑ ΤΑΤΟΪΟΥ_ [ROYAL ESTATE OF TATOI] right underneath. The items in the Royal Palace are marked similarly, except that they read _ΒΑΣΙΛΙΚΑ ΑΝΑΚΤΟΡΑ_ [ROYAL PALACE] under the Coat. None of these should be removed from the building where they belong, or else the archivists and historians will be unable to track them down and chaos will ensue.

Fun fact: this is where Mother and Thunder's wedding rings have been hiding all along. But she kept her wedding gown. She recycled it years later, when she was pregnant with Niobe.

The decoration however stinks of Hera. She doesn't even try to hide that she's not that much of a Christmas person, probably because it steals the thunder from her birthday. Every. Single. Year. Must be really annoying. So, simply put, she wins the award for the most minimalistic Christmas decorator of all time. Honestly. She can beat even the top notch interior decorators in New York with her "simplicity". But, tradition is tradition, and so we get two Christmas trees in both Palaces. I've already mentioned the humongous real tree in the Diplomat's Hall at the Royal Palace. The second, much smaller and artificial one is in the entrance hall of the Private Quarters (because that's the only room in there with plenty of free space). Same rules apply at Tatoi. Except that both trees in there are artificial to save up costs. Experts may also say that we do it so that the average Greek household can identify with us because, well, Greece isn't really a fir tree country. (Here's looking at you, Scandinavia). So, the first tree can be found in the King's office, serving as the perfect background for his Christmas speech. As for the second one, that's in the living room. That's the fun one because that's where all the gifts are. Needless to say, all of the trees are fully decorated. Peacock has better things to do than be reminded of the one holiday she hates the most.

Honestly, what is wrong with this woman?

And here is one last fun fact. My great-great-great-grandmother, the first Queen from the House of Olympios and the one that was born a princess of Hohenzollern-Sigmarinen was the first to introduce the tradition of the Christmas tree in Greece. Before that, all the Greeks would decorate a traditional Greek fishing boat (called a trehantiri for your useless information) because they were a nation of fishermen, sailors, and anyway, we love our islands a little too much. We honour that tradition too, by the way. On the central landing in the Grand Staircase in the Royal Palace, there is one made of crystal and gold. The one in Tatoi is exclusively made of wood. We gotta act like a traditional Greek family, somehow.

Why am I wasting your time this way? Well... I need a distraction. I know, I keep telling that often. But the thought of Ares and I spending the rest of the day under the same room is enough to drive me mad.

Mother and I actually did get a better offer. Some of her friends had invited us to celebrate with them at their mansions outside Athens. When the King makes a personal invite, however, you must accept. Or else all hell will break loose, you'll be called a traitor, and he'll have you either exiled or executed.

And we don't want that I suppose. Although, metaphorically speaking, that is likely what is going to happen either way.

Mark my words.

At least Hephaestus is not allowed to join us. The invite is strictly restricted to official members of the family, thank heavens. Thinking about it, though, it is rather funny. Who could imagine a few years ago that Mother and I would spend Christmas with our exes?

I could actually turn it into a script, give it to a prominent film producer under a fake name, and voilà, you have another badly written Christmas rom-com.

"Pretty sure Hera's had botox done. You can't have such a stiff face unless you put actual poison in it!"

And here's who's going to portray me. That, actually, is my cousin, Hollywood's brightest rising star, and an all-around ray of sunshine. Also known as Astris Heliades. Her mother, Clymene, is Mother's immediate older sibling by a couple of years. They both divorced our fathers at around the same time, which led to Astris and me being attached to the hip since day one. Apologies to my darling Niobe, but our cousin is the closest thing I have to a real sister. We even fight over whose father is the biggest jerk. But that's a story for another time.

She called us to wish us a merry Christmas and to let us know she missed us, but it couldn't be further from the truth. It's nine o'clock in England as we speak, everyone else is asleep, and she is bored as heck. In typical Oceanides fashion, however, what started off as endless teasing soon turned into our favourite topic: family pictures! The official Christmas portraits of the Greek Royal Family were released a few days ago and Lydia also ensured that my maternal family also got plenty of copies to last them a lifetime. Whereas everyone else kept talking about how much Blanche has grown or how great my outfit looked on me, Astris chose to be original yet again. Apparently, Peacock's bitterness makes for a far more interesting topic.

"Peacock must have taken her shots this morning too, then," I tease. "I swear she looked bitterer than a sour lemon!"

She laughs, stifling down a yawn. It's my fault. I woke her up in the middle of the night yesterday because I desperately needed to hear a friendly voice. I must have sounded really upset, because we spent the next two hours on the phone with her telling me various funny stories and trying to make me laugh in the best way that she could, especially after I had mentioned Ares' name. (She is the only person in the whole wide world who knows the whole truth. But she'll never tell as soul. In fact, I think she rather likes it, much as she keeps admitting the opposite. And that's how you know we're related.) Long story short, I now know every little backstage shenanigan from the TV show that she's shooting. It's a spy comedy mixed with romance and drama. Sounds complicated, but it's actually pretty good. She's currently on a full-time holiday for the time being, because her character is lying in bed with a broken arm and leg following a mission in Madeira or something. In fact, the show's producers didn't want to add the pregnancy to the plot, and so they came up with that in order to cover her large baby bump with as many blankets as possible. Plus, she's a stubborn little mule who persists on doing her own stunts. Bad for her, though, she can't run around in heels while firing fake guns. Doctor's orders.

Well, I suppose that's one way to beat Russian mafia...

"Please don't talk to me about food!" Astris cries out. "I actually kept craving French fries with melted cheese and bacon all night long! God, I can't wait for brunch to start!"

"Well I'm afraid you must wait a little while!"

That is the absolute Oceanides Christmas tradition. Every morning, at eleven o'clock sharp, Grandma and Grandpa host a lavish pajama party for all their kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids. It's actually the perfect opportunity to get rid of the leftovers from the night before. It's nine o'clock in Britain right now and everyone is asleep, so she must wait a while more. Every Christmas morning, Grandma and Grandpa host their descendants to a lavish feast where they are served... the leftovers from Christmas Eve dinner. Picture it: all the Greek foods you can imagine. On bagels. And coffee. And wine. Plus fruits, Greek yogurt, cereal, jam... Astris and I once created our own unique recipe: a bagel covered with a reheated roasted lamb that's been marinated overnight and topped with vine leaves, fried feta cheese and lots of Greek olive oil. It was the best thing I've ever eaten. But I was a drunk, weird teenager, so I might be a bit biased there.

Great. If cravings are contagious, I think I just got one myself.

"Being pregnant in this family is hell, honestly," she adds. "All the women are bombarding me with advice, everyone wants to touch my belly, and my feet are so damn swollen that I can't run away if I wanted to!"

The youngest baby in the family is actually three years old. But my maternal family loves tiny little people so much that they'll stop at nothing to make sure that they stay out of harm's way. In short, Astris is in trouble. Her hormones are driving her crazy, everyone keeps saying how they know best, and her husband is torn between siding with his in-laws and defending his wife's sanity.

Thinking about it, if I had kept the baby, Astris would have gotten some of that much-needed peace and quiet she deserves. You bet that everyone will paying a lot more attention to the future King or Queen of the Hellenes than they would to yet another random Oceanides baby. No, contrary to common belief, we do not make a collection of those. We just happen to pop them out.

Still, I can't help but tease her some more. "You honestly are such a great actress, Star! For a moment there I thought that you really hated all the attention!"

"Oh, look who's talking!" she says sarcastically. "The future Queen of the Hellenes, in more ways than one!"

"Shut up!" I laugh. "You might get an Oscar!"

"Might?!"

"Girls, please!" Mother lets out. We're on speakerphone so that she could join the conversation too. She has been grinning at our bickering instead, spoiling Blanche, who rests her head on her lap, with all the pets she could give her. (Little wonder then that my own dog downright avoids me when "grandmaw" is around.) Leaning forward so that she can be heard better, she asks: "Astris, honey, are you still in London?"

"No, we're in Stansworth actually. Grandpa decided the day after you left that London was too noisy for him."

OK, my sincerest apologies, but here comes another lecture. I'll keep it short though, I promise. So, Stansworth Hall is my grandparents' 25,000-acre estate in Surrey. It consists of a Palladian 18th-century country manor which could be a palace in its own right, with various farms scattered all around it, and a nature reserve with reindeer running around wild and free. It's rather like a smaller, British, and more opulent version of Tatoi. Believe it or not, Stansworth Manor makes Tatoi Palace look like a real farmhouse in comparison. Grandpa bought it back in the 1970s, when the family started to expand and they needed as much space for the grandkids as possible. I think they did get their money's worth. The mansion is so big, in fact, that we were actually allowed to ride a bike along its long corridors to get from one room to another! Until we turned twelve. Then we were not allowed to it anymore.

(For the record, I attempted to do so in the Royal Palace too, only to end up getting scolded by Peacock for being unladylike.)

"Does that mean that the treasure hunting game is postponed?" Mother asks. Blanche howls, begging for her attention. As a sign of utter desperation, I pat her head to show her that she can come to me, if she still likes me enough.

"We're hosting it tonight, actually. Right before the Christmas dinner. We actually spent four hours yesterday trying to figure out which rooms we were going to use!" Astris laughs. "Grandma believes that it's a great way for them to learn their way around Stansworth while they're still young."

"They might get lost."

"Oh, don't worry Aunt Dione! We'll send the dogs to find them!"

Yes, this is really happening. It's odd, I know, but it's also very effective. The kids are too young to use mobile phones, so we go old school: we hang a bell on the dogs' collars and then we send them off to the rescue. When we were little, I remember how reassuring it was to hear a bell and a bark and know that Blackie is coming to find you. One year, we actually tried to get them to use walkie-talkies, but they either lost them, broke them, or downright refused to use them. We had lots of crying and tantrums that day. So, big, loud dogs it is! Unless you're allergic. Then you're in a bit of a trouble.

Things are simpler for the grown-ups, though. Since we are allowed to use mobile phones, we do let each other know that dinner has been served by sending texts or calling and just hope that they'll see it before it's too late.

"We'll make sure to take lots of pictures and we'll email them to you as soon as possible!" Astris adds. "We have finally figured out how to connect our digital cameras and our mobile phones to our laptops, so you will get to see poor Hydaspes in his Santa costume!" Friendly reminder: that's her husband. "Froufrou, will you please remember to check your emails this time?"

"I told you! I forgot the password!"

"Yeah, right. Admit it, you're such a lazy bug!"

"Wait a-"

"How about your grandparents' question?" Mother chimes in again. "Do you know what it'll be?"

"Oh, the little ones won't find it in a million years!" Astris laughs. "Froufrou, do you remember when Grandpa used to tell us about the _kalikantzaros_ to teach us about the festive traditions in Greece?"

Screw what I said before. Here comes another lesson.

Those are little malevolent goblins, living underground and showing up between Christmas Day and January 6th. That's when the sun completes its seasonal movement or something. According to folklore, they spend the rest of the year sawing the World Tree which supports the earth so that the world will collapse. But by the time they are about to complete the task, December 25th arises and then they show up on earth, where they cause trouble to mortals. They don't have a standard appearance, but everyone pictures them to look like animals (hairy bodies and legs of a cow, goat, or horse. They're huge or tiny, have donkey ears, and laugh like mischievous little children). Since they're also creatures of the night, they show up after midnight. I'm pretty sure that Grandpa has stuck to tradition and had a piece of colander hanged outside the main entrance of all his houses to keep the _kalikantzaros_ away. Legend has it that they will be drawn to it, start to count all the holes in it, and stay there until sunrise. As soon as the sun rises, they have to find a dark hiding place. Until the clock strikes midnight. Then they come back for more trouble. But good for all of us, Grandma thinks that it's ridiculous and embarrassing, so the colander remained in the fridge and Grandpa tried the next best thing. It is believed that they can enter the house through the chimney too, if it has one. And guess what? My grandparents' houses do. In every single room no less. So, he had instructed that the fire remained burning all night long to keep them away. In all the fireplaces. All over the house. The next day, Grandma shouted at him that he'd burn us all down and so the poor colander was once again asked to play doorman. You'd think that'd be all. But nope. Grandpa is so dedicated to this tradition that he actually avoided intercourse with his wife between March and May, so that their kids wouldn't be born between November and December and thus not look like little goblins.

Believe it or not, Grandma Tethys actually told me so.

Just to think, this man has been praised as one of the most successful businessmen of the twentieth century.

"Oh no!" I let out. "Is it about that time we were so curious to see them that we got up at midnight and made a mess in every room because we thought they were shy and we tried to make them feel comfortable?"

"Exactly!" my cousin laughs again. "I swear, it's been twenty years and they still remember it like it was yesterday! So, anyway, the question is about how all that fun ended."

"The rest of our cousins woke up and joined the fun. Then the nannies and the staffers woke up, too, and had to tidy everything up before the grown-ups came back from that party they had gone to!"

"That was the most fun I have ever had!"

"They won't try to encourage them to repeat it, will they?"

"I think they should!"

But Mother - ever the disciplinarian - can't help commenting: "You caused six million dollars worth of damages. You destroyed rare antiques, broke china vases from Japan and Arabia, tore at the carpets, and used our lipsticks to draw on the walls." Astris and I laugh louder. Mother adds: "Good for you, your grandparents adore you. It was them who had convinced us not to punish you."

My cousin is about to share another story. But at that moment, my bodyguard ruins the fun to inform us that we are about to arrive. Well, that was very nice of him, although he didn't really have to say anything. Blanche has already grown agitated, standing up on her two back feet and staring out of the window, barking and wagging her tail at the familiar surroundings.

"And this, ladies and gentlemen, is how I'll go to hell," I whisper to Astris and she giggles. "Gotta go. Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Lollipop!" That's her special nickname for me. Don't ask. "Hold on tight! Both of you! Bye!"

"You too!" I reply. "Bye-bye!"

"Bye, dear!" Mother adds.

As soon as I hang up, Mother takes my hand and holds it tight. She's staring outside the window, trying to take it all in.

She hasn't been to Tatoi since my Investiture Ceremony eight years ago. Now the Palace lay as short distance away and in all its glory.

It looked awfully homely. The window shields were wide open, the smoke was coming out of the chimneys, the balconies were decorated with colourful lights...

The rest of my royal relatives say that it's the only place where they can truly feel comfortable. Maybe it's just me, or this phone call, or Ares... but I don't.

I read somewhere that home is not a place. It's the people. I guess that does explain why I'd rather be in Stansworth right now, with all the havoc that ensues in there.

Mother takes a deep breath.

That's it. Moment of truth. Let the show begin.

* * *

 _12:00 AM_

 _East Drawing Room, Palace of Tatoi_

Demeter almost dropped the phone upon the mention of that name.

"Dione?!" she asked. "How? D-did Zeus invite her?"

Staring blankly at the ceiling, Hestia let out a long sigh. "I'm afraid so. Hera is not very pleased as you can imagine."

Demeter tangled her fingers in the cord. She could suspect that her sudden arrival to Greece was associated with the mysterious Mr. Petalas. The discussion she had had with Aphrodite on Hera's birthday gala was still troubling her. In fact, were she more willing to be a gossip, she wouldn't have hesitated to ask straight out. But she knew how her older sister felt about it.

"C-could Aphrodite have something to do with it?"

Hestia pursed her lips. "This might be a private matter between Zeus, Dione, and Aphrodite. We would be fools to believe that we should mingle."

Demeter let out a long sigh. How typical of her sister to reply in such a way! But then again, she would have done so as well. As long as her niece hadn't asked her all those questions, at least.

"You should see Mother though!" her sister replied, fixing her hair. "Her face truly lit up when she found out Dione would be joining us!"

"Well, I don't know why I'm surprised. She's always treated her like her own daughter. Especially after the divorce!"

A man's voice was suddenly heard in the background, muttering things that seemed to have no meaning at all. At least to Hestia. Demeter did speak her husband's language. She replied to him in Danish and before Hestia knew it, she was listening to a calm yet incomprehensible exchange between the two spouses. Even though Demeter had been a Danish citizen for decades, Hestia still couldn't get used to her little sister speaking such an odd language. It was so, so different from Greek that it was wonderful to think that they were both being spoken in the world today.

"I have to go," Demeter eventually said. "There is a bunch of people right underneath our balcony, begging to get waved at!"

Hestia chuckled. The first time she and Demeter had visited Denmark (while their father was planning to get one of them married off to the Crown Prince), they had both been impressed by how close Amalienborg Castle had been to the rest of Copenhagen. It didn't even have a garden or a fence to create some distance between them and the rest of the world! Citizens and tourists alike could just pass through the small square that counted as the yard, acting like it was perfectly normal of them to be near their royal family! Demeter may have been too self-conscious about it at the early years of her married life but nowadays, she didn't seem to care.

"I will call you as soon as things calm down, so that you can also talk to the rest!" Hestia replied. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas! Make sure you do have fun!" Demeter wished too, before hanging up.

As soon as she set the receiver down, Hestia took a few minutes to think. Try as she might, she couldn't fathom what had gotten into her youngest brother. Zeus' thoughts and motives had always been quite the enigma, mostly because he liked to keep them to himself. But this time, he was downright stupid.

The clouds between him and Hera had obviously been lifted. Yet he was willing to juggle it all yet again. And for what? That's what Hestia couldn't figure out, much as she had told Demeter that she wasn't dying to find out.

While Hera was staying in Corfu, she had gotten drunk one night and confessed that she had never hated another woman as much as Dione. She believed that Zeus still hadn't freed himself from her "accursed spell" as she had put it. As if there had been some kind of "unfinished business" between them that was long overdue. Puzzled, Hestia had tried to convince her that it was impossible and that she had simply been fooling herself.

For a moment, she thought whether forcing Hera to endure his ex-wife's presence all day long was a way for Zeus to punish his wife. But still - for what? She shrugged her shoulders. Personally, she didn't really mind Dione. Guiltily enough, she was even content to see her. Plus, the mere mention of her name had brought a smile to Rhea's lips, which she and Amphitrite had been trying to do since she had arrived in Athens. Besides, Hestia had also liked her a lot back in the day. Despite the hailstorm that her fame and family name had brought onto the Royal Family, she had had the decency to remain discreet in the years following the divorce. It was that refusal of hers to talk publicly about her time as Crown Princess of Greece that had earned her Hestia's uttermost respect.

Plus, she had come all the way from New York (or wherever it was that her family spent the holidays anyway) because she worried about her daughter. Didn't that prove how much she loved her daughter?

Nevertheless, she didn't know whether or not she should be happy to see her. At the end of the day, Hera was still the Queen and they were her husband's minions. But she couldn't accuse Aphrodite for ruining the day. Judging by the mess that the last few days had been, could she really blame her for needing her mother's support? Both Hestia and Demeter also turned to Rhea for advice and support, even though they were approaching old age themselves. That was how they had made amends for all the years they had been forced to spend apart.

Zeus and Hera had been the last ones to arrive, entering the Palace twenty minutes after Dione and Aphrodite. Instinctively, Amphitrite and Hestia had taken to playing the hostess, trying to make the situation as less awkward as possible.

Easier said than done.

The King and the Queen had obviously had a fight. Since the church service, they had been avoiding to talk to or look at one another if they could help it. Being masters in their craft, they had put on a show whilst in public. But now they were among family. There was no need to pretend among people who knew them a little too well.

They weren't the only ones. Ares and Aphrodite, too, acted rather strangely towards each other. Her niece looked cheerful, even joking with her uncles and teasing her little cousins. (This was, after all, the first Christmas she'd spend with both her birth parents in years). Yet, despite all that, her expressive eyes were filled with sadness and she sometimes was caught off guard, which she blamed on a lack of sleep. Hestia believed her. She did look rather exhausted. Ares, on the other hand, was bored, angry, impatient, and stank of cigarettes. Hera had blamed it on another fight that they might have had. Probably. After all, those two were holding each other's hands one day and were biting through each other's flesh the next. Amphitrite had advised her not to mind them. "The less you know, the better," she had said. At the end of the day, it was still a private matter and they still just their aunts.

When it came to Hera and Zeus, however, different rules applied. Amphitrite had convinced Hera to join her for a stroll in the gardens and they were currently outside, probably discussing various random topics until Hera felt confident enough to open up to her confidante. Amphitrite had a talent for calming down rough seas. That was probably how she had managed to remain married to Poseidon for so long. As for Zeus, he preferred to get some work done. He was currently locked in his office, going through the governmental documents that had arrived in Tatoi early the same morning.

"Spending some time alone would do him good," Rhea suggested a while later. A while after Hestia had finished the phone call, Hades had entered the drawing room to tell her that their mother wished to go trekking. He had also warned her to wear comfortable shoes. "I don't know about you, but Mother's so fit that she makes me look like an eighty-year-old!" he had joked.

As she was buttoning up her coat, Rhea added: "But how wonderful it is that Dione hasn't changed at all!"

"Shall we get a move on now?" Hades asked impatiently. He had grown sick and tired of hearing his mother gushing over Dione for the thousandth time today. If she mentioned her name again during their walk, he'd have to find an excuse to remain a few steps behind. He had no idea how Hestia could do it. She had the patience of a saint. Well, then. To remain true to the analogy, he'd have to be the devil in comparison.

"Where is Poseidon?" Rhea added, putting on her gloves.

"He's on the back yard with Ares," Hestia replied, adjusting her hat. "They're smoking."

Rhea shook her head. "What a terrible habit to have!"

Hades and Hestia exchanged looks of understanding and guilt. When it came to it, none of the siblings were as innocent as their mother believed. Hestia had joined the club in her early fifties, after Poseidon had convinced her to try it as a joke. But she never smoked more than three cigarettes a month. It was strict limit she had put on herself to keep the habit from becoming an addiction. (Although, when Hera was staying in Corfu, she did loosen that strict rule a bit to deal with her capricious sister-in-law.) As for Hades, he couldn't resist his favourite Cuban cigars - provided that his family wasn't around, of course. Since he had discovered that his brothers would steal some from the box, he kept them locked in his study. It'd be easier to convince those grown-up mulls that he had cut it down altogether than to accuse them of being sneaky. Zeus, too, had a particular love for those, although Hera - ever the loving wife - kept making sure they were as far away from her husband's reach as possible. She must have been following the same method when it came to other women too. That's why Zeus couldn't have enough of either. Last but not least, there was Demeter, the black sheep, the only one who had quit successfully. But then again, she never was a real smoker to begin with. She preferred to smoke oregano as a substitute which led her brothers to nickname her "the weed".

"Shall we?" Hestia said, pointing to the side entrance. They loved using that one, for it gave them direct access to the forest. The double doors of the main entrance, however, other than remaining locked most of the time, led directly to the swimming pool and the tennis court.

In the meantime, and while everyone else were keeping themselves busy with horse riding, playing tennis, or just trying to keep busy anyway, Poseidon was doing his wife's favour. He was determined to figure out what on earth was wrong with his nephew, so that she would stop worrying at last. Convincing Ares to join him hadn't been difficult. After all, a man-to-man talk never did any harm. It'd also do him good to get away from Aphrodite for a while. Whatever happened between them this time, it seemed pretty intense.

The night before, at the Christmas Eve gala, Poseidon had noticed Ares approaching Aphrodite in a corner of the crowded ball room. After whispering something in her ear, she had left the room and he had followed suit a few moments later. Some minutes later, Ares had stepped back into the ballroom looking like he had urgently needed to break something. Aphrodite had joined him afterwards. Her eyes had been red from crying but her makeup had looked impeccable - as always. Poseidon wouldn't have noticed that detail though hadn't Amphitrite told him. After all, women always noticed such things.

"Son, there are two ways to win a lady's heart," he said exhaling the smoke. "One is to make her believe she is the only woman in the world. The other is to prove to her that she is not."

Ares ran his polished shoe over the white pebbles, his eyes glued to the ground. He took another drag. "You know, Uncle, some of them think that the whole world revolves around them. It's hard to convince them otherwise."

Poseidon rested his right hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Listen to someone with plenty of experience in the field. Everyone makes mistakes. But only real men try to correct them and to learn from them."

His nephew was getting uncomfortable. "How do you know I have some woman trouble anyway?"

"It's written all over your face," Poseidon teased, resting his hand on Ares' shoulder. "You look like you'd erase the entirety of the female species if you could. Trust your old man, buddy. We've all been there."

"I'd be just happy if I could make just her disappear."

Poseidon tapped the burnt smoke to the ground. "Is she seeing someone else?"

"Sort of," Ares said leaning his head back and exhaling the smoke. "But it's more complicated than that."

"Aha. Go on."

Ares hesitated. He didn't want his uncle to find out Aphrodite's secret. Yet, he needed a piece of advice or two. Throwing his burnt cigarette to the ground, he asked: "What would you do if you found out that aunt Amphitrite had done something terrible behind your back? Something that concerned both of you?"

"Such as?"

"Committed an abortion, so to speak."

Poseidon flinched. Could it really be possible? That he and Aphrodite... Together... "She'd never do such a thing!"

"Hypothetically speaking."

Poseidon sighed. "Well, she obviously had her reasons. Women are the greatest enigma men ever had to solve. We'll never be able to figure out what they're thinking or why they act they way they do."

The look on Ares' face revealed that it hadn't been the reply he had been expecting. Especially from a man like his uncle.

"Is that it, then?" Poseidon furthered. "Did you get her pregnant?"

Ares preferred not to give a straight answer. "She told me straight out that she wasn't planning on telling me."

His uncle shrugged his shoulders. "She might have done it to protect you." Ares scoffed. Poseidon added: "Here's the thing. We should never tell women what to do with their bodies. Imagine a world where women have full control over men's bodies or believe they are entitled to it. How would that make you feel?"

"But the baby was also my own."

Poseidon sighed. "As long as it's in the womb, it's the woman's and the woman's alone. Its life literally depends upon her. Just think about it. They have to share the same body for nine months. That's almost a year. It's a long time." Ares lowered his gaze to contemplate his uncle's words. Poseidon furthered: "Men have a different approach to parenthood. Me, for instance. When Amphitrite was pregnant with Triton, I kept reminding myself that I was going to be a father. I realized it only after I held him in my hands for the first time. But reality sank in much later. Triton was two years old. We were in the park and something happened. He ran up to me with open arms, calling 'Dada, dada, dada'." He clapped his hands once. "That was it."

"So what do you suggest?"

"Apologize. If you admit that you've made a mistake, she'll try and forgive you. But, she might also not. You'll never know unless you try."

Ares remained silent. Looking at cigarette he squashed to the ground, he tried to picture that moment. Aphrodite would laugh at his face. Worse even, she'd try to ridicule him to her heart's desire, proving him all the more that she had been on the right side all along. He did not want to endure that humiliation. But thinking about it, his uncle wouldn't have won Amphitrite back if he had not knelt and cried, begging her to come back.

No. They were different. It was impossible to compare them to each other. Amphitrite was sweet and kind. Her husband and children meant the world to her. Aphrodite had no idea how to love. She always drew men to her like moths to the flame. Then she stood back and watched as they burned from the passion she had ignited in them.

There must be another way to win her back. But in less than forty-eight hours, he'd have to return to the base. Whatever it was that he had to do, he'd have to rush.

Still, he had one last question. "What if she doesn't want to talk to me?"

It was his uncle's turn to throw the burnt cigarette to the ground. "You'll move on. Remember, there's plenty of fish in the sea and you're still young. But! Don't let her go without a fight. Especially if there's another man involved."

Poseidon gave Ares another pat on the shoulder. Casting him a reassuring smile, he stepped back inside, to the warm Palace. He could feel his stomach growl and was already craving the stuffing. Much to his annoyance, though, lunch wouldn't be served for at least another hour. If they had been at home in Porto Heli, he'd have asked Amphitrite to fix him a ham and cheese sandwich, just to hear her complain that he was old enough to make it himself. And then, once she'd have sent him into the kitchen, she'd ask one for herself as well.

Oh, the joys of married life!

Alone at last, Ares was trying to come up with a plan. Staring the day after tomorrow, he and Aphrodite would be miles away. He couldn't be able stationed at the base, far away from her reach. But perhaps it was better that way.

Staring at the trees ahead, he put his hands in his pockets and went for a walk. Five minutes later, when he was deep into the woods, it hit him.

If there was one thing Aphrodite resented, it was feeling ignored. He could recall many incidents in which people had to face her wrath for treating her like the least important person in the room. Her pathological sense of entitlement had gotten her in trouble so many times, but despite all the scolding, yelling, and additional backlash that she had received for it, it still remained that one aspect of her personality she cherished the most. Ares could still recall her piercing childish scream when, growing up, he and his siblings would ignore her for something more interesting. If it was a toy, she'd either destroy it or hide it. If it was another kid, she'd hit them right in the face. It didn't matter whether it was a staffer's child or her own half-sibling; they had to pay for turning their backs to her. But since becoming an adult, she no longer pulled off such desperate acts to draw all the attention. She relied on her looks instead. Her fancy yet eccentric outfits made her a fashion icon and her gorgeous hair had always been compared to that of a fairy. Add to the mix her title, her background, and the world's fascination with her mother and her brief marriage to Zeus, and you got the textbook definition of the perfect modern princess.

A recipe for disaster, really.

For she was worshiped like a goddess.

His uncle had been right. He would win her back by proving to her how she wasn't the only woman on earth. In fact, he'd hit her right at her most sensitive spot.

Her vanity.

He'd force her to feel insignificant, irrelevant even. Then she'd kneel before him, begging for forgiveness. He'd spare himself that kind of humiliation. But he wouldn't apologize just yet. She'd have to fight for it.

If she wanted to play dirty, then so be it. He could abuse his right to add his own rules to the game.

He ought to hold on tight. Things were about to get heated.

* * *

 _01:00 PM_

 _Dining Room_

OK, so, here's a very long and detailed description of our lunch because my life is still an awful mess and I need to avoid eye contact with Ares because Peacock is right here and I don't want her to kill me just yet.

Please remind me in fifty years to use that as the title to my tell-all autobiography.

Yes, I know it's too long for the front cover. It could have some of the back too. If people still read books by 2056 that is.

Actually, wait. Ares is also puling off the 'Avoid At All Costs' trick. There he is, by the other side of the table, staring down on his phone from under the table and probably playing _Snake_ or something.

Nothing about him surprises me anymore.

Mother, as is befitting the guest of honour, is sitting next to Zeus Almighty. But with Hera right across from him, there's not much they can talk about. So, they're acting like five-year-olds who have just been punished, staring down on their plate and avoiding each other as much as possible. Still, she occasionally gives me worried looks and I have to pretend I'm all right so that she can enjoy herself a little. Or try to at least. Grandmother does look cheerful, though, which is a very nice change. She is sitting next to Hera and she's trying to keep her occupied by sharing various funny stories with her. Meanwhile, Prince Hades is cracking jokes with Princesses Hestia and Amphitrite, both women burst out laughing, and Prince Poseidon takes his wife's hand possessively, in case she forgot who her _real_ husband is.

Oh, isn't that lovely? Look at him, playing the jealous husband...

Whatever.

So, let's start from the decoration, shall we?

For better or worse, Hera is still the hostess. So, what we get is practically a miniature gala. I won't go into much detail again because it'll take forever. But still. The seating plan, the name tags, and the small menu are still there. (Need I say that they're both written in French instead of Greek? But it shouldn't come as a surprise. That's Hera hosting the party.) Same for our good old friends, the awful lot of china dishes and cutlery with our Coat of Arms engraved on them. The table is covered with an ivory tablecloth with matching embroidered flower details on them. Two strands of red tulle ribbon are the fanciest decorative. They are position right in the middle, forming a zigzag between the three large silver vases on either side and right in the middle, as well as for the two candlesticks that are also made of silver and which were placed between each vase. The flowers are not as fancy as the ones on Peacock's birthday. We keep things simple this time with a lovely combination of jasmine, lavender, and various other wild flowers which have been gathered from all around the farm.

What's more... There's a big and heavy mahogany buffet taking up the whole length of the wall right behind me. On it, there are various dishes with traditional Greek Christmas delicacies, which we will be served after lunch (and no, poor Hebe can't touch them, much to her disappointment.) There is also a bottle of expensive whiskey on top of it, which Zeus Almighty will serve to the Head Chef when he comes in from that door to the side leading to the tunnel that leads to the kitchens. That's the small, smelly house right next to the Palace. Anyway, the drink thing is a tradition and a way to thank the chef for the lovely meal he's prepared. The current one is as old as Thunder, so the two men can crack a joke, tease each other on their workloads, and congratulate themselves for putting up with everyone and everything in their respective realms. Then they raise their glasses, wishing each other a Merry Christmas, take a sip or two, and go back to their respective worlds. Needless to say, it's our Head Chef's favourite Christmas tradition.

Back to the decoration. The walls are decorated with various landscape paintings which, as you can guess, are all by Greek artists and they are all depict various areas of Greece. But, contrary to those at the Royal Palace, they're not donations from museums, but we actually own these ones. Still, we can't remove them from here or chaos will ensue. The dining table and its matching, detailed and uncomfortable chairs are also made of mahogany and can seat up to twenty people. Well, there's only ten of us in here, so half the chairs have been removed to give us more free space.

Thank goodness.

Well, since I don't feel like socializing and Athena is sitting right across from me and next to Ares, I guess it's time for me to describe the food.

Hold on tight for this is going to get wild.

Before we begin, I have a question. How many of you eat the same Christmas meal every single year? I knew it. Well, I've got some happy news for you. We're easy to identify with. I swear I've grown sick and tired of the same old turkey and all that stuffing.

Maybe I should just do it like Queen Demeter and become a vegetarian. She doesn't look like one, for she has a rather full figure, but she is. I swear, she has the slimmest waist out of every middle-aged woman I've ever met.

Anyway.

So, food time. First things first, though, let's start from the drinks. The adult guests can only be served wine as far as alcohol goes and they can choose amongst a variety of Greek red wines. (Greece has always produced fine wine, but no one knows that because the French somehow have convinced the world that they're better. But we're slowly catching up with them.) As a matter of fact, I could count them down, but they have very long names and each region produces different variations, so we'll take forever. It'll just suffice to say, though, that there is one kind of wine from each region of Greece so, in short, most of us are tipsy by the time lunch is over.

Which is great if you're coping with a breakup. So I guess I know what I'll be doing for the next hour or two.

Other than all these red wines, though, there's also a variation of sorts, called krasomelo which translates, literally, to "honeyed wine". It's basically sweet or semi-sweet red wine with a few spoonfuls of Greek honey, spiced up with cinnamon, cloves, peppercorn, cardamom, and nutmeg. It's basically magic in a glass and here's why: you have to drink it warm, which intensifies its aroma. We produce it at Tatoi too, bottle it, and stick a tag with a small sketch of the Palace of Tatoi, the crown next to it, and the words _ΚΤΗΜΑ ΤΑΤΟΪΟΥ_ [TATOI ESTATE] underneath. (Needless to say that we have our very own vineyard somewhere in here). That's why I'm playing the wine expert. I'll own the damn place one day and our wine has won various international awards. But you can find it only to a few supermarkets, because we're a farm, not a factory. Do look out for it next time you're in Greece. You'll do us a favour now that Zeus Almighty is very much broke.

Rest assured though that the Royal Family is drinking a rather different wine from the one we're selling. That's because our wine maker also loves to add a few drops of orange juice to the mix that is reversed for us. He also marks it with a red dot, so that the distributors won't accidentally pack it along with the rest of the bunch.

That would've been a disaster, wouldn't it?

Alright, so things are about to get interesting. Let's start from the starters. Once the butler has filled the glasses of all the grown-ups with alcohol and those of the little ones with water or a Cola, the footmen proceed to do the rounds. Serving here takes a while longer because each guy holds a platter and they serve as they go instead of gather the plates to fill them in the kitchens. Very briefly, there is a selection of sauces and spreads from different regions of the country. There's _tzatziki_ , made of yogurt, garlic, and cucumber slices. It's one of our most famous dips, so if you haven't heard about it, you're probably living under a rock. Then we have _skordalia_ (basically garlic mashed potatoes which has a creamy taste and doesn't taste like garlic an awful lot), olive spread (I don't think I need to describe what it is in detail because it's basically what its name says. So let me just say instead that it's great for canapés), _tahini_ lemon sauce (that actually is a favourite in Cyprus too. It's like humus, only sweeter and not as thick, so it's a bit of a pain when you want to spread it on a piece of bread and wear a designer gown at the same time, but I manage). Finally, we have some roasted garlic spread, which is basically garlic butter with a Greek twist: you can actually taste the garlic. Plus, each guest is served their very own hot pita bread or just a plain old boring slice of traditional Greek bread (again, they can choose). I know, it sounds like our breaths smell terrible when its over, but the breads help it suffice a little. That's why we always make such a fuss over it.

Thirty minutes filled with chatter, laughs, and endless attempts to avoid eye contact with the wrong people go by. The happiest people in here are Hebe and Rhode, who make sure to enjoy the joy of playing with your food while it lasts. But the food has to stay in their plates at all times. Or else the Queen will have to play the disciplinarian and you don't want that to happen. Poor Triton, though. He had to wear a tie and act more like a grown up than a teenager, but now he bears a frightening resemblance to his father. Hopefully, that's where the similarities will end.

Suddenly, the footmen rush in from the tunnel again, to remove the dirty dishes, bring on the bowls, and serve the first main dish. We're having an _avgolemono_ chicken soup, which is basically the most underrated Greek dish ever. It's a rice soup with lemon juice, eggs, and pieces of boiled chicken. Traditionally, it's served after the Christmas Eve church service at night, but we love having it on Christmas day as well. All the kids love it, too. Hebe actually claps her hands from joy every time she sees it. It's a light meal too, so it can also work as a starter in my view.

At least that's how Grandma Tethys and Mother are serving it when they're entertaining at home.

Once more, there's the usual murmur from the discussions and don't slurp your soup please, for that is very, very rude. (I actually believe that the only way to find out whether someone is truly well-mannered is by whether or not they slurp. I should try that with Hephaestus one day.) I'm spending most of my time just talking with Eileithyia. We've been discussing our favourite films for the past hour or two. She's basically my cinema buddy. We love sneaking into the theatres incognito and enjoy a couple of peaceful hours away from the madness that is our relatives. We both loved the latest movie on Marie Antoinette.

"I agree," the footman behind us says.

Eileithyia jumps up, I laugh, and he proceeds to serve us a piece of roasted lamb. They're saving the turkey and the staffing for dinner. Its absorbing aromas of thyme, rosemary and oregano fill the room. Same for the potatoes. I love how they taste of olive oil!

"It's spent five hours in the wood oven," he explains. "The kitchen will smell for days!"

The staff don't dare engage in a chitchat with Their Majesties, but I beg to differ. Someone once joked to me that, once I am Queen, the staff will feel far more comfortable in here. Well, that's the goal. Give me the throne and I'll erase everything that Hera has done all these years.

Yes, including the decoration. It's awful.

Somehow, at long last, dessert is served. So far, Mother and Father deserve a golden star for being such well-behaved children and for not talking to each other for as long as possible. Peacock is still mad, Ares goes on pretending I don't exist, Athena is Athena, Prince Poseidon is still jealous of his older brother and talks to his son instead, his wife gossips with her sister-in-law, and Prince Hades is staring at his watch, waiting for this torture that is eating to end.

I bring my newly refilled glass of wine to my lips, but Eileithyia pushes it back.

"Enough!" she says. "You've already gulped down six of them!"

Well I can't fight it, can I?

But Ares does look at me for once. Just for a few seconds. Then he goes on teasing Triton again for all I care.

What? Oh, sorry, silly me. Maybe I am a little tipsy after all. But just a little!

So, we're not having chocolate pie this year. Actually, we never do. What we have is called a _karidopita_. This is a walnut cake with syrup made of honey and sugar. It does look like a chocolate cake, except that it's sweeter, fluffier, and smells of cinnamon and clove. But, in my defense, it's served with vanilla ice cream and barely enough chocolate syrup to make the flavours blend better.

Now, it looks like it has nothing to do with Christmas and that it's a year-round kind of food. You're right. But there is a nice symbolism behind it, which makes it just perfect for this time of the year. In the Ionian islands, walnuts represent happiness. So, this cake is a symbolism of you sharing your bliss and prosperity with your friends. That, in short, captures the very essence of being Greek.

Sadly, this feeling of sharing out of goodwill seems to have gone lost these days. But here's hoping it'll come back one day.

There. Now I've made my Christmas wish.

And so, lunch comes to a close with - guess what - more sweets! The footmen remove the silver platters from the buffet and carry them towards us. This is the part where we're allowed to get our hands dirty because you can't eat them otherwise. (You may try it if you want, but you'll only make a fool of yourself.) So, we have: _kourabiedes_ , _melomakarona_ , and - my personal favourite - _diples_.

Try to pronounce them correctly and I'll give you a medal and a knighthood. I mean it!

So, _kourabiedes_ are _the_ Christmas delicacy for many people. They're famous in Greece, Cyprus, and the Greek diaspora all over the world. Some American friends say it reminds them of shortbread, but there are almonds in it. Lots of them. It's basically the signature ingredient. As is the huge amount of butter used, flour, vanilla, and the some Greek brandy for flavouring. (Grandma Tethys prefers to add syrup made of red roses instead, honouring her Cypriot roots. I should mention that she bakes them herself. As does Mother. And all of my aunts. And Astris. I'm just the useless one who can't even crack an egg). The kourabiedes are not just served during the holiday season, though. Since they're covered in icing sugar, they're also served at weddings or christenings because they're white and white represents happiness too. In that case, they go by their alternative name: Greek Wedding Cookies.

Actually, this is widespread in Cypriot weddings, too. Except that they call it plainly "wedding cookies" in that case.

The _melomakarona_ , now, are an egg-shaped delicacy which tastes like olive oil, honey, and - guess what - walnuts. This is served only on Christmas, though, and they're not as interesting as the _kourabiedes_ but still, they're pretty awesome.

Last but not least, here come the _diples_. They're a traditional dessert from the Peloponnese, resemble another delicacy called "angel wings", and they're also dipped in a sugar and honey syrup. Like the _kourabiedes_ , they, too, can be served at weddings too but they're also a favourite during the holiday season too. Once again, they're covered in cinnamon and walnuts.

Lesson learned today: we love honey and walnuts. A lot.

In our case, these sweets are served with coffee and seasonal fruits. But, as you can guess, the sweets are much more preferable than oranges and tangerines.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how we spend our Christmases. The minute Zeus Almighty sets down his fork and gets up, we have to follow his lead. It doesn't matter whether we have finished eating or not. He's the leader, we're the pack. We go where he goes.

Upstairs it is, to brush our teeth and change into something more comfortable because the day is only halfway through and we still haven't greeted the people in the farm.

I guess I should feel glad about it. It'll be easier to avoid Ares altogether in an open space full of people.

Oh boy, the day is just going to drag on forever...

* * *

 _03:00 PM_

 _Tatoi Village, wider estate of Tatoi_

The oblong tables had already been set and adorned with red nylon tablecloths. The oval silver platters full of _kourabiedes_ , _melomakarona_ , and _diples_ looked tempting enough to touch and the red honeyed wine in the barrels smelled too good to resist.

Despite some thick clouds gathering overhead, no one was worried that it might rain. They had checked all the weather broadcasts beforehand. It wouldn't be stormy this year, unlike the previous one. No one wanted to host this small party inside the various surrounding buildings. It took away the sense of unity and the team spirit.

For most of the staff at Tatoi, this was their favourite Christmas tradition. And what a joy it was that journalists were kept away and so the public had no idea about it! The Royal Family would join them, dressed as casually as possible, for an hour of chatting, joking, laughing, and drinking. To some newcomers, the sight of the Queen and the Crown Princess in blue jeans and near cows, goats, sheep, and guard dogs may seem odd and out of place, but soon they'd get used to it too.

Like every year, the King permitted each staffer to bring up to five members of their extended families with them just for the celebration. As always, it made quite the buzzing audience. Despite it being a holiday, many relatives took the unique chance to see the Royal Family up close. But, due to security, they had to be thoroughly checked and to be given 'Visitor' tags which they wore around their necks. Nevertheless, it was easy to tell the first-time visitors from the 'experienced' ones. The latter had only come bearing their cameras and IDs, were more familiar with the surroundings, and did not hesitate to joke with the royals.

It was refreshing to see the country's most famous family so relaxed and at ease with the crowd. There were no ropes or rack barricades to keep the "commoners" at a distance. So, the royals didn't have to put on a show either - or if they did, they played their parts well. But for those who had known Zeus since his youth, they could tell that there was a small tension between Their Majesties again and they interpreted Hera constantly holding Zeus' hand like a lovestruck teenager as a way for her to keep him out of the danger that was Dione's charm. She had joined them, too, even if just for a little while and mostly by her daughter's side. She had a spotted a few familiar faces amidst the crowd and she immediately proceeded to shake hands with them and ask them how they were. To everyone in attendance, her presence felt like they had somehow ended up with a golden ticket. Dione Oceanides was known to be a very private person who rarely, if ever, gave interviews in Greece. Like her daughter, though, she, too, was the star of every show.

The Crown Princess had put aside her designer outfits for once and was now in cowgirl boots, a pair of blue jeans, and a plaid red shirt with a thick black jacket on top. She also ate a lot. Much more than usual. Her paper plate was always filled and she didn't care that she had gotten her fingers filled with melted honey or with powdered sugar. Most people blamed it on her mother's presence. They could imagine it was a big deal for her to spend Christmas with both her parents, perhaps for the first time in her life. However, some couldn't help speculating on the reason for Dione's travel. Surely it wasn't just because her daughter asked her to?

Amphitrite was also one of these people. Since Dione had first stepped foot into the Palace, she had had a funny feeling about her. But she couldn't tell Hera, not today. She wouldn't like to throw fuel into the fire for nothing.

Suddenly, a big, loud guffaw made all heads turn. Poseidon was laughing at the Chief Electrician's dirty joke, which Amphitrite had not paid even the slightest attention to. As he prepared to tell another, he handed out two dhiples in napkins - one for each. Poseidon took a large bite immediately but Amphitrite had had enough of eating. She turned her attention elsewhere.

Ares was passing them by, arms crossed on his back. He was looking at all the makeshift counters absentmindedly, like a visitor who had come at an open-air market without any money. The staffers, ever so kind, were greeting him and asking him if he'd like anything, but his hands remained empty. However, he was always in a short distance from Aphrodite, as if he had suddenly become her bodyguard. Aphrodite was at least trying to appear cheerful, holding Hebe's hand, showing her around, and taking everything that the villagers offered her.

Much as she hated to draw her own conclusions based on mere suspicions, Amphitrite couldn't help noticing that Aphrodite was eating a lot more than usual. Not only had she eaten everything during lunch but she was also currently enjoying all the delicacies and the wine she could get. Amphitrite had known her niece-in-law for long enough to know when she was nervous or upset. After all, as is befitting of a family, Poseidon ate a lot when he was nervous as well. When Ares approached Aphrodite, however, and did accept the yogurt with honey and walnuts that he had been offered, Aphrodite walked off. She had even held Hebe's hand so forcefully that the poor girl almost threw her own jar to the ground. Despite her baby sister's complaints, though, Aphrodite proceeded to move on to the next counter - and stand right next to Athena.

Amphitrite knew both Ares and Aphrodite well enough to figure out when they had a fight. Relieved as she was at the prospect of them breaking up - if they had ever had anything going on that is -, she also knew that Aphrodite's behaviour was only making Ares all the angrier. She had no idea what Poseidon had told Ares exactly but, by the look of it, he'd have to talk to him again.

If only he would stop making those dreadful jokes! "What's the one secret spot all kings must hit during intercourse? The hole in the sheet!"

The electrician and a few other curious (male) spectators burst out laughing. For Amphitrite, that was the cue to make her husband stop. While he was reassuring everyone that they wouldn't lose their jobs for enjoying a good funny stunt, Amphitrite pinched his arm and, apologizing to everyone, told them that they had to move on.

"There now, Pearl!" Poseidon complained once they were out of earshot. "Where's your sense of humour?"

"Down the drain like yours apparently," Amphitrite didn't hesitate to reply. "Ares is not acting like himself today."

The Prince scoffed. He knew what had prompted that remark. But still, he refused to believe Hera's ludicrous concerns. "I spoke with him. He had a fight with that girlfriend of his. But, he's crazy about her. They'll make up. Just wait and see!"

Amphitrite nodded. With a small grin, Poseidon returned to the nasty crowd. She spotted Ares again. He was walking away now, towards the woods. As for Aphrodite, she remained in place, next to Athena but not close enough to raise suspicions that something is odd. In fact, if she hadn't let Hera's ideas get to her own head as well, she would have imagined that Aphrodite was trying to steal the spotlight from Athena instead of avoiding her own half-brother.

The worst part is that the more she wanted not to believe her sister-in-law, sadly, the more she did. Perhaps the Queen wasn't being absurd without a valid reason after all. But then again, it might just be yet another of their downfalls and they will make up in an hour or two.

Oh, why did things have to be so complicated!

* * *

 _04:00 P.M._

 _Private Movie Theatre_

We walk down the spiraled stairs that take us to a small, dark room with an awful green carpet on the floor and which looks like it's been stuck in the 1960s. Except for two things. First, the old seats have been replaced with bigger and more comfortable ones and, second, the technology has been updated.

Ladies and gents, welcome to the first ever home cinema in all of Greece, if not in Europe. Also known as currently the biggest TV screen in all the land.

As is the case with pretty much everything in here, this room too has its own story to tell. Back to the reign of the great and fearful King Cronus, he was expected to do a significant state visit to the US and so, for the sake of fine diplomacy, the Greek founder and owner of one of the biggest movie production companies in Hollywood (which is still going strong, by the way, and no, I won't reveal its name), offered this miniature movie theatre as a 'thank-you' gift for some kind of an offer as far as we're concerned. No one actually bothers to find out the truth.

But the real question is why on earth do I have to watch Zeus Almighty's Christmas speech live, in that very room. I hated it when I was five but I downright despise it right now.

Everyone is taking their seats. Hera sits on the front row, as always, Amphitrite sits next to her, Poseidon next to his wife, and Ares next to his uncle. Mother brushes my arm gently, to show me to two empty seats next to Princess Hestia, who is sitting next to Queen Rhea who, in turn, is sitting next to Prince Hades.

And that's the story of how I ended up facing my ex/adoptive half-brother's backside for the next ten minutes and I still somehow managed to remain calm.

In all honesty, though, I don't know what's worse. Being so close to your ex that you can touch him if you want, even though you know you can't undo what's already been done? Or having to watch him talk to the people of this country, with his current wife in the room looking proudly at him, whilst you're trying to deal with your own daughter's issues?

I'm so, so sorry, Mother! Your Christmas has been horrible and it's all my fault...

Ares promptly and downright avoids me, choosing to chat with Poseidon and Amphitrite instead. They might as well be talking about the weather for all I care.

Suddenly, the room gets dark, Mother holds my hand, the giant screen comes to life, and we all pretend to hold our breaths, awaiting Zeus Almighty's Christmas broadcast. It's a tradition that all European royals and other heads of state in Christian countries have to do. It's also the most boring thing you'll ever watch all year. Niobe once perfectly summed it up when she said, "It's just a guy in a tie sitting there, talking and looking stern." This is the perfect way to describe Thunder at this moment.

So, each year, there is a different opening for it. Last year, it was an aerial view of the Royal Palace. This year, it's just a close shot of the Palace of Tatoi. Only the credits remain the same. They read, in short, "His Majesty's Christmas Message."

Then we see him, as he is currently in his office. He's sitting behind his desk, dressed in his three-piece dark suit and a matching royal blue tie, with a landscape portrait and the Christmas tree in the background, and he's looking straight at the camera. But he's cheating. He's got a teleprompter.

Still, he's broadcasting his speech live. Everything has to be perfect. But it was his idea that he does not tape it before hand. Therefore, if anything unexpected happens, it's all his fault.

He starts by wishing us all a good evening. That's how he opens all of his speeches for this occasion. It's plain, simple, kind, and - most importantly of all - politically neutral.

Then he adds: " _On behalf of my family and me, I would like to wish you all a joyful Christmas. If 2005 was a year of prosperity, 2006 was a year of lessons learned. Not only has Greece continued to successfully undertake and compete in international sporting and entertainment events, but the political changes that have occurred have also helped make the country more European and modern._ "

You can guess what's coming. He's now giving a full report on all the major political decisions that have "modernized" the country, although he doesn't get partisan at all. He knows that, if he starts blabbering on and on about a clear political agenda, that'll be the end of him.

I mean, even I am smart enough to know that...

He furthers: " _I would like now to take the opportunity and address all the Greeks who live abroad. We at home need to maintain a strong bond with our compatriots who reside in different parts of the world but whose love of Greec_ e is stronger than the distance that separates them from their relatives back home.

" _Seven months ago, the Crown Princess embarked on a colossal tour to visit as many Greek communities abroad as she could. Starting from her beloved Cyprus, a country with whom we share strong bonds of deep historical and political friendship, she then visited the Balkan countries, Italy, Central Europe, Russia, Scandinavia, West Europe before, finally, visiting Australia, Canada, and the USA._

 _"As she has told me on several occasions, she was impressed by the warm welcome she received from the Greek communities there. This helped reaffirm, once again, my deeply-routed belief that the Greeks of the diaspora are the greatest ambassadors of Greek values and traditions, for they still follow them religiously. Thus, they make us all one nation which is not defined by geographical boundaries._

" _I speak now to all the parents whose children live abroad, either for studies or due to their career. Your children are the brilliant young minds of the future, who thrive in universities and businesses abroad. They are solid proof that Greece still has not lost its reputation that has been following us since the most ancient of times, about being a nation that thinks, creates, and innovates. One of these young people happens to be Princess Athena, whose recent path does not differ much to that most young people have followed. After her successful graduate studies in one of the world's most prestigious universities, she continues to work on behalf of Greece in our embassy in London._ "

Of course he'd go on and on about Athena and me, talking about us both like we're the best thing that could have ever happened to the country. Well, I may be. I'm not so sure about poor Athena sitting in the corner though. She's never been a fan of watching her father's speeches either but at least Hera lets her get away with not paying any attention to him.

Yes, I know it's weird. I don't know why she does that either. But I do expect her to scold her a lot in private. If she doesn't, I need a refund for all the times I had to endure my wicked stepmother's endless advice and concerns over "what will people say".

That's why Thunder now presents our relationship as if we're very close.

As if...

Anyway, he adds that Athena and I are meeting (or have met) with Greeks from all walks of life during our time abroad, and that they're very happy and proud because they see that the Royal Family is united. Then he says that this is is basically the role of the Greek Royal Family as well as the essence and meaning of Monarchy altogether.

You may forget about what I said earlier, about having a political agenda. Thunder just confirmed that he's a staunch monarchist.

Just in case you doubted it. Or were just wondering. Or are just downright stupid.

Pardon. I'm still not in the best of moods today.

And, heavens, Zeus Almighty's speech is just dragging on...

" _However, as in every family, we, too, have faced our own challenges," he blabbers on. "The most severe of all has been the Queen's long illness. In order to get a treatment, she had to move to the milder climate of Corfu, where she successfully recovered. During her absence, however, Princesses Eris and Eileithyia resumed her duties, proving once again how Greek families work together for the best and our family is no exception._

" _In this context, I am also glad to announce that Princess Athena will be returning to Greece again in a few months' time to resume her official duties. May her homecoming set an example for all the young Greeks out there, especially the ones born abroad, who debate whether starting their life anew in Greece is worth it or not._ "

Now he just goes on about all the major things that we have experienced in the past year. If only he knew...

On the spur of a moment, I unzip my purse. (It has been resting on my knees the whole time, just to give me an odd sense of reassurance.) My mobile phone is in there and I contemplate for a moment whether I should actually do it. If I sent Ares a text message, perhaps, explaining as much as I could within the character limit, maybe we could make up.

But I hesitate. At the end of the day, our fight and separation is not my fault. He's the one that persisted to ask all these questions and then he refused to acknowledge the truth. What was done was done. End of story.

He'll have to come to me first. Only then will I forgive him.

I keep my eyes on him throughout the broadcast. He hasn't moved an inch, like he's some sort of a statue. Instead, he remains glued to the screen, as if he doesn't want to miss any second of the "historical" and "legendary" speech of Zeus Almighty.

That's how you know he's trying to hide from the mess he's made. But at least he does dare show his face to the world. Blanche just... disappears altogether and won't show up unless you ask her straight out what she did. Then she just runs to the crime scene by herself.

I actually wish that people worked in a similar way. It could have saved everyone in here an awful lot of time and nerves.

And Thunder just blabbers on: " _In conclusion, I want to thank those of you abroad who are actively involved in Hellenic clubs and organizations abroad. Your contribution with keeping the Greek spirit alive is a significant asset to our country, in particular when it comes to educating the younger generation that is born on foreign soil about Greece. I would also like to congratulate and further encourage those who have founded such clubs and who work in them voluntarily. Both the Crown Princess and Princess Athena have visited them and are associated with them through their role as patrons or ambassadors. Their own contribution underlines the very essential message: We are one people!_ "

Well that explains why we're at such a constant war with ourselves, then.

Sorry, that was downright stupid.

Mother lets out a deep sigh, and I am already missing my bed. I just want to curl into a ball, have lots of chocolates in tow, and watch _Gilda_ and _All About Eve_ on repeat. At least I'll be out of here.

I'm can't leave before dinner has finished first, though. Mother's orders.

Oh, gosh, we still have a few hours to go until then! I don't think I'm strong enough to endure this kind of a torture...

Zeus Almighty then sits up and everyone in here is glad that it's over. But we don't dare tell Hera that.

Here's what he says: " _Thus I end my Christmas message_ ," he says. " _Once more, my family and I would like to wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year 2007!_ "

Yeah, thanks. You two.

I don't think I ever left a room faster than I am doing now.

As long as I don't smell Ares' accursed cologne anymore...

* * *

 _04:45 PM_

 _Dining Room_

Zeus' knuckles turned white. Yet, he wouldn't let go of the dining table that was already set for dinner. If he hadn't cared one bit about his presence in the room becoming known, he'd have turned over the table and to hell with the expensive china. He could feel the adrenaline rush into his bloodstream and he took a few deep breaths to calm down.

Right behind him was a heavy secret door that led to a soundproofed room. It was in there that some of the most significant decisions had been taken, from his great-grandfather signing the treaty that allied Greece with the Entente during World War One to his father inaugurating the dictatorial regime into power in 1967, in the false hopes that he'd be granted absolute political power. But for Zeus, that room was associated with a woman.

The very same woman waiting for him inside.

Some thirty years ago, he had bent centuries of royal tradition when he had convinced his father and the conservative prime minister to allow him to marry a commoner - the love of his life.

Or so he had thought at the time.

Up until then, it had been customary for the Royal Family to seek their future spouses amongst royal circles. Cronus, too, had made the right decision (the only one he'd ever take in his entire life) when he had chosen not to marry a Germanic princess following the harsh German occupation of Greece during the Second World War. The daughter of a deposed Russian Grand Duke, who had sought refuge in a nearby Greek island after the October Revolution and who had made a fortune as a captain, had been a better choice by far. From the little that was known about her, Queen Rhea had been born and raised as a Greek, yet her aristocratic background made her the perfect candidate for the consort of a monarch.

It made Dione look insignificant in comparison. Her own ancestors had been Greek Cypriot fishermen and shepherds. Somehow, her paternal great-grandparents had managed to escape poverty by immigrating to Argentina and making a fortune in shipping and oil. "At least her money can make up for it," Cronus had remarked before signing the paper that made her the bride to his youngest son. It had confirmed what Zeus had been suspecting all along. His father had been eying Dione as his golden ticket out of their relative poverty. They had the lifestyle but no assets to support it.

 _How ironic_ , Zeus thought.

Dione's ascent to royalty had gone more smoothly than the Royal Court had predicted. Outwardly, she was the perfect princess. She had definitely grown up as one. Born in Cyprus but raised largely in England and France, she had attended private schools in Switzerland and the U.S.. Growing up, she had learned how to mingle with the most powerful people in the world by watching her parents entertain them at their house. Yet, despite their country of residence or their British citizenship, the Oceanides family had been widely admired and respected in both Greece and Cyprus for their intense love of their home countries. Their countless contributions varied from funding universities and hospitals to registering their enormous fleet under the Greek and Cypriot flags, making them a prestigious maritime power. The Greeks had been willing to overlook her strong English accent. They had been more excited that, at long last, they'd get to see the human side of the awfully rich yet extremely private tycoon dynasty.

Plus, her vigor, charm, stubbornness and outspokenness had been a pleasant change from the dull, old, traditional and private Queen Rhea with the unknown past, which she kept a deeply buried secret.

She had not disappointed. Since her relationship with Zeus had become known, she had broken one centuries-old royal tradition after another. First, she had announced her pregnancy shortly after their engagement. Then, she had refused to hide her - rather obvious - baby bump underneath layers and layers of tulle for her wedding day. Following her becoming the Crown Princess, she had began to train and volunteer as a midwife whilst lobbying with the feminists for the legalization of abortion in Greece. Like an exotic creature, she was feared, adored, and detested. Sometimes all at once. But she had yet to show her true force. After she had filed for divorce, she had kept demanding joint custody for Aphrodite. Rumours at the time had also kept focusing on her decision to pay a generous sum to the Royal Family and the Greek government to ensure that she would get what she had wanted.

That's how things worked in their world. Their money could buy everything and everyone off. The big fish always ate the smaller, meeker ones. It was how her ancestors had ended up with that vast fortune, after all. The Oceanides family may have enjoyed a reputation of decency and fairness, but they never hesitated to play hardball if the situations called for it.

And they were masters at the game.

Looking back, Zeus and Dione would have divorced one way or another. Her refusal to play the supportive wife and her desire to have her voice heard would have led to it sooner or later. But, for better or worse, his own infidelity had forced them both to face the ugly truth. They had been too young and immature for marriage and parenthood. Hadn't been for that unexpected pregnancy, or for Dione's persistence to have that baby, things would have turned out differently. They would have had more time to know each other.

Following their bitter and very public separation, they had settled into a cold, business-like relationship. He had not forgiven her for dating Tantalus (his childhood best friend!) any more than she had forgiven him for his affair with Hera. It had taken them years until they had finally made amends - for Aphrodite's sake. At the end of the day, Hera and Tantalus deserved most of the blame. Over time, their allegiance had turned into an odd kind of friendship.

But as soon as he'd open that door, that, too, would fall into pieces.

Zeus wasn't a fool. Aphrodite's panicked email was only the motive for Dione's return to Greece. In fact, it had been him she had wanted to see all along. As a display of hospitality, he had agreed to make it easier for her. Hera may have been displeased by his decision to invite her to Tatoi for Christmas, but Zeus was certain that it was a great idea. Surrounded by his family to a place she had once called home, acting as the embodiment of everything Dione had turned her back to... She had looked very uncomfortable.

He had to use that to his own advantage.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled open the door. The small room was mostly dark, save for the bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The windows were always kept shut to keep away prying eyes and ears. It was also very modestly furnished. AN old and worn-out oak table stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by four uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs. There were no decorative items anywhere, except from the few authentic antiquities that were discovered in the estate and were kept there for additional security. Dione was sitting on the desk, savoring the rest of her red wine. The way she held her body, though, indicated that she wanted to be done with as soon as possible. They knew they didn't have much time. Sooner or later, his relatives would come back into the Palace after hours of trekking and horse riding, eager for a cup of coffee. The staffers, too, would soon begin to storm into the dining room to add the final details before dinner would be served.

It wouldn't do for the King and his ex-wife to be seen exiting the most secretive room of the Palace together, would it?

"Alone at last!" Zeus joked to ease the tension.

Dione grinned. Placing her glass next to her, she crossed her knees. Zeus couldn't resist staring, although he knew what she was playing at. He had confessed to her once that her long, slender legs never ceased to drive him crazy. Their eyes met for a moment and Zeus tried very hard to resist that familiar tingle between his legs. He could already feel his trousers getting tighter. But he had to fight it. For as long as possible.

"Don't play games with me, Zeus," she replied. "You know why I'm here."

"Well then," he said trying hard to swallow his resurrected lust for her. "Ladies first."

Dione had noticed the way his body reacted to her. Holding the glass of wine again and bringing it to her lips, she asked: "Have you thought about the offer I made you?"

That was the moment Zeus had been waiting for. It was his turn to humiliate her. He had regretted telling her about his debt and revealing to her the plans to get Aphrodite married off to Hephaestus. Since then, she had kept bombarding him with various suggestions to prevent that from happening. Yet the more offers she made, the more powerless he felt. He had considered whether he should have stopped her early on by telling her it was a done deal. But he knew, deep inside, that he'd have fallen on deaf ears.

That's why he both respected and disliked women in power. They were perfectly aware of their value. It made them very tough to beat.

"I cannot accept it," he replied confidently. "I am aware that all parties involved would have benefited from it. But you know how sexist the Greeks are. If she divorces him, they will put the blame on her while Hephaestus will be getting away with murder. I don't want another skeleton in my closet."

Dione had proposed that Aphrodite and Hephaestus would remain married for only four years. In the meantime, Zeus would invest the money that the Petalas family would have offered him as "dowry" for their son. By the time Aphrodite's marriage would be over, he'd have earned back twice the money he had lost (with some "help" from the Oceanides family of course). As soon as the divorce was finalized and everything had been arranged to favour the future Queen, the Oceanides family would present Zeus with fifteen million euros as a thank-you gift for getting their beloved little princess out of that unfortunate situation. It sounded ridiculous, yet terribly good. But he couldn't risk it.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice," Dione pointed out. "Unless we gain the upper hand early on, the Petalas family will use you and the rest of the family for their own advantage. We both know what social climbers are like. They'll stop at nothing to get what they want. We have to stop them before they drag all of you into the mud. Especially Aphrodite."

He sat on the chair opposite her, but he kept a safe distance. It would prevent him from giving into his desire. Plus, it also allowed him to steal a few glimpses of her gorgeous legs.

Rubbing his bearded chin, he asked: "How can I rest assured that you give me your word?"

The hint of menace in his voice didn't go unnoticed. Good for Dione, though, she still had a few aces up her sleeve. Removing her heels with her feet, she rubbed her legs together. She knew that Zeus was staring. The fool.

"Look at us!" she uttered. "We're just sitting here, playing Russian roulette with our daughter's future!" She paused for a moment to make sure she had Zeus' full attention. "She means the world to both of us. Both the Royal Family and mine had to bend fundamental rules to get her to where she is now. We're not always that generous. Believe me, darling, any smart man in your shoes would rush to take advantage of that."

Zeus had to admit, she was quite the diplomat. She had turned to affection to get what she wanted. Yet, he couldn't help noticing the slight irony in her voice as she had called him 'darling'.

"After our divorce, your father had forbidden me to invest in his companies," he reminded her. "He practically shut the door to my face when I asked him why. Since then, he has ensured that all the doors that may lead me to you or your money remained firmly locked. I can't help but wonder. Is our daughter really worth fifteen million in his view? Or is it something else that you wish to keep a secret?"

Dione smirked. Unbeknown to him, Zeus had fallen into his own trap. "You misheard," she replied uncrossing her legs and crossing her ankles. "I said fifty million."

Zeus choked. "Fif-"

"Think about it," Dione furthered. "You will be one of the wealthiest monarchs in Europe. But, seeing that the game has changed, I have different conditions this time. You should break off the match. Effective immediately. No one has to know, least of all the Petalas family. You want Deutsche Telekommunikation to pursue Hellenic Telecommunications just so you can invest it in. The Greeks aren't happy about it and your public support of the merging has done irrevocable damage to your reputation. Not to mention a few other... surprise factors."

Zeus got the reference to Hera's three-month absence. The Queen's absence was still raising many questions that would not help improve his reputation at all. Perhaps his days as king were numbered. Dione kept staring at his face. He turned to the side, avoiding her gaze, and cleared his throat.

"Surely you do remember my eldest brother, Aias?" she asked. "He is the head of the Oceanides Business Group now. He can reverse that purchase with one phone call. HT remains Greek, your reign is secured for at least another decade, and you can invest it in without living in fear that you might lose all your money again."

Zeus rubbed his chin again. It was a great offer. In fact, it was the best one he had received until now. Not only did it spare him the scandal from Aphrodite's divorce but it also slammed the door right to the nasty faces of the Petalas family. Still, something wasn't right. All that sudden generosity of the Oceanides family surely came at a price.

"And in return?"

Dione twirled her glass around. "In return, you invest to some of the companies of our choice and you no longer interfere in Aphrodite's personal life." Zeus scoffed. "I need to protect them from harm. Shall I remind you what happened with Eris?"

"I am not here because of Eris, dear."

There it was again, the ironic term of endearment.

He couldn't take it anymore. Standing up, he bent forward on the desk, his hands on Dione's sides and their faces so close that they could feel each other's breath on their faces. If anyone walked inside now, they would misunderstand their negotiation for an amorous romp.

"Aphrodite is my heir!" he yelled through clenched teeth. "Her personal life is a matter of the state!"

"Exactly," Dione replied calmly. "She needs a husband that can assist her in her future role in the best way possible." Gently, she pulled Zeus back to free herself from his grasp. "You haven't realized the level of Aphrodite's celebrity yet, Zeus. She is practically a superstar in the U.S! Her engagement will make headlines worldwide. Everyone will be rushing to find out more about that mysterious partner of hers. Journalists will try to dig in as much as possible. If they find out the true reasons for their marriage, your decision will backfire. You cannot afford that risk."

So she was basically threatening him with the downfall of the Monarchy...

Letting out a long sigh, Zeus stepped back. Hands in pockets, he stepped aside to think.

There was no debating it. At long last, the Oceanides family were willing to side with him and he needed their contribution now more than ever. But what Dione was asking was impossible. Unless he kept a close eye on Aphrodite, she would get the whole of the Royal Family in trouble.

"Give Aphrodite a chance!" Dione added. "I understand that it is our duty as parents to keep them out of harm's way, but... they're not little children anymore."

He turned to look at her. Once again, she had crossed her knees. But he couldn't look at her legs now. He felt that they were mocking his disposition. "So, you are criticizing my abilities as a father and a king."

"Neither. You have been great at both. But when it comes to fatherhood, you have been doing it the wrong way."

She'd have liked to add that Zeus had been hardly there to see it, but it would make matters worse.

"And fifty million euros will magically fix that?" he asked sarcastically.

"It's a start. Once the Petalas family are out of the picture and your own reign has been secured, you have plenty of time to make amends with her."

He hated nothing else in the world like he hated Dione's smirk at that moment. Like she knew she was going to win eventually... But she was right. He had invested most of his time with Athena, teaching her all he knew and always encouraging her to be herself, in order to ensure that she was accepted both by the Royal Family and by the nation. Aphrodite had never needed all that amount of care. Her maternal relatives always made sure to shower her with all the love and attention in the world.

She was right. Athena had always been treated like she had been the rightful heir all along. But, knowing Aphrodite, she wouldn't accept to be sold off for the second time.

It was too late to bridge the gap.

Dione couldn't take her eyes off him. He looked like he was carrying the weight of the whole world on his shoulders at that moment. She hated seeing him like that. But then again, he had brought the bankruptcy upon himself.

Zeus figured that there was no need for debating it any longer. His family would be back in a few minutes.

"You'll have my final answer in a week."

Dione smiled wider. It was a yes. He'd be a fool to turn down such a grand opportunity. But she wouldn't tell Aphrodite anything yet. She'd wait until everything was said and done to share the news with her.

Getting off the desk, she walked up to Zeus and held his hands in hers. She was looking into his eyes, rubbing his fingers softly. It was enough to drive Zeus mad. But his defeat had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Thank you!" she whispered.

Whatever that meant.

* * *

 _08:00 PM_

 _A guest room_

OK, you know what? Screw it. Screw everything!

I've spent the whole day just crying over some worthless guy. Yes, it's Ares I'm talking about. The fool doesn't even bother to look at me! Alright then. If he wants it to be this way, then so be it. It's his own damn loss. There's plenty of other fish in the sea and I have quite the net.

Mother has kept out of it. She told me this wasn't my first breakup and, by the looks of it, it certainly wouldn't be the last one either. I know what I have to do. My cousins in Surrey were shocked to hear it when I called them earlier but I don't care. It's an old trick that always works. But I will follow Mother's sole warning not to make things more complicated than they already are. She's going to try and bribe Father to get me out of this situation, I know it. I'll be surprised if they don't try at least.

Don't worry. It has nothing to do with the 'usual suspects'. They disappeared from my life and I am sure that Zeus Almighty and the NIS have something to do with it. They make for quite the duo, those two. Oh, well. They were nothing but trouble anyway. And I still haven't found out what the heck happened to that dress of mine.

Whatever. I'm better off without them, frankly. After all, I've always loved myself more anyway.

If there is one thing over here that men hate, it's a woman showing off her body. They condemn it like it's the work of the devil. They make women feel ashamed and guilty in their own skin. (It's also the reason male journalists just hate me so much). But I was brought up to believe it is the greatest weapon we can have. They fight it because they cannot resist it. It's very typical of men to do so, trying to prove that they are much stronger than their emotions.

We can use it to our advantage. We could make them weak at the knees, have them bend at our very will. And these fools won't know what hit them.

The Herrera dress will do just the trick. It's a dark blue floor-length strapless gown with black embellishments all over it. Anna has just finished doing my side braid and I am standing before the vanity mirror, adding the last touches to my makeup. You can never go wrong with nude colours and dark outfits. You want to look freshened up, not like the Corpse Bride in her reception dress... I complement the appearance with the long oval embellished earrings. Perfect!

But the nude tones also serve another purpose. It'll draw the attention away from my eyes and where it should go. Standing up, I walk up to the full-length body mirror. As is befitting of column gowns, mine, too, accentuates all the right places. But let's give it a slight twist, shall we?

Taking hold of the skirt, I pull it down slightly. Just enough to reveal some more cleavage. There we go. Plus, the Chanel ivory shawl over it shall make for quite the combination. It'll be teasing but still modest enough for a family occasion. I'd hate for Mother to feel more uncomfortable than she already does.

Speaking of, I should call Astris first thing tomorrow and tell her about how Peacock's five latest botox injections were utterly destroyed after she had realized how everyone - even Amphitrite! - had been trying to make Mother feel at home. She'll have the baby two months early!

In fact, I have an idea...

Better yet, a plan.

There is a designer crimson tie waiting for Ares in a square box underneath the Christmas tree in the entrance hall. It's supposed to be my gift for him. But his real present is far from material and doesn't come with an exchange card.

Ares loves the thrill of competition. He doesn't know it, but he adores it. He lives for it. It gives him a battle to fight and it makes him feel alive. So, I am using the old-fashion trick: jealousy. No, it's not Hephaestus. Ares can eat the poor man for breakfast. It's someone else. Some guy he's always been awfully jealous of.

That other guy won't be surprised I called him. Since we broke up, we've always been honest with each other and he won't refuse if I ask him just a simple favour. Nothing more. No strings attached.

He'll love it. It's always been our little game.

I grab my mobile phone from the nightstand and type his number. A few seconds later, I can hear his familiar, throaty voice: "Hello?"

"Anchises hi. It's me. Can you talk?"

He laughs. "What does my favourite little naughty Crown Princess have in mind now?"

"Let's just say... I'm feeling rather playful. Are you in?"

"With you? Always!" I can picture him grinning from the other line. "Name a time and a place."

"Tomorrow. Eight thirty. Your treat. Your girl feels like being surprised!"

"Is there anything in it for me?"

I smirk at the innuendo. "If you're a good boy, maybe!"

He laughs louder. "Alright. What are the rules?"

"Just take me out for a nice little dinner and make sure I am the talk of the town tomorrow!"

"Your wish is my command! I'll pick you up."

"You may come upstairs too if you wish. Mother will be thrilled to see you!"

"Dione? Dione Oceanides is here?!"

"That's the one! She still likes you, you know."

"So I'll make sure to buy some chocolates along with those red roses!" I scoff. He's always been cheesy like that! "Alright, Your Highness. See you soon!"

"Merry Christmas to you too!"

I flip the phone and jump up at once. This is the best gift I could've ever wish for! I'm such an idiot, though. Why had I not thought of that sooner?

It'll be hitting two birds with one stone. Poor Ares will never know what hit him!

But I love it. While he'll be busier reuniting with an old enemy, I'll be trying to make Hephaestus see how he deserves way better than me.

He deserves a faithful, loving wife. I am not that kind of person and neither will I ever be. They did try to change me. It didn't work.

Great. I'm all set. Bring it on!

* * *

 _The King's Office_

Athena couldn't believe her eyes.

She read the memo again: _STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL. Manh. 5-2 new offer: 50Mil., condition: Seafoam not marrying. Will discuss at next audience._

It was addressed to the Prime Minister. Deciphering it wasn't hard, since everyone was referred to with their security names. Manh. 5-2 was Dione, Seafoam was Aphrodite, and the offer stood at an extravagant fifty million. Dollars? Euros? She couldn't be sure. But she had warned her father about it. More than once.

Since she was not one to believe in coincidences, she blamed her own sense of tidiness for coming across it. She had entered the room looking for a few moments of peace away from her rousing, jousting relatives. Rude as it'd be to admit it, their pointless and repetitive chatter was giving her a headache. As soon as she had stepped in, however, she had noticed the sole flaw in the perfect picture.

A white folder had laid open on her father's elaborate desk. Right next to it, left closed but not secured, had been the King's Box (a black leather attache briefcase with His Majesty's monogram painted in gold on each side which contained all the confidential governmental documents that had to be delivered to the PM). Carefully, she had closed the file and proceeded to place it in the Box. Yet she couldn't help being drawn to that yellow post-it on the very top of the pile.

She hoped that no one else had seen it - especially Poseidon. Her uncle had a nasty habit of sneaking into the King's Office when he was in Tatoi, picturing an alternative universe in which he had won the elections and had been the current monarch instead. Or it could also be out of sheer nostalgia for the time he'd act as Regent, before Aphrodite had come of age. She didn't have the time to figure that out.

But her father's absentmindedness didn't surprise her either. Quite the contrary. It seemed to be getting all the worse lately. Just the day before, she had overheard two housemaids - one of whom also worked at the Royal Palace - mention how the King had placed his tie in his cigar box before abandoning said box in the fridge at the small kitchen in the Private Quarters. But they seemed to confirm what she had been worrying about a lot since Hera had left for Corfu.

The King was getting too old to continue reigning the country.

He couldn't abdicate as long as Cronus was still alive. The country couldn't afford two living former kings. Perhaps that's why he hadn't announced anything to his family yet.

But still. If Zeus was considering to abdicate after Cronus' death (which wasn't likely to happen for at least the next couple of years), why did Aphrodite have to be married? Having a spouse wasn't a prerequisite for men to become monarchs. Unless the stark double standard regarding royal women also declared that they still needed a man by their side to be taken seriously.

Especially in a country like Greece.

Oh. How stupid of her. It was all about having heirs.

Preferably legitimate ones.

She locked the Box. Letting out a sigh, she sat on the throne-like chair and she opened her book. She was currently reading a very interesting and well-analyzed report on women's rights in modern Greece - ironically enough.

"Athena?"

Caught by surprised, she turned to face the intruder. Zeus was standing by the door, already dressed in his tuxedo as the tradition for Christmas dinner declared. At the sight of him, Athena also became self-conscious about her own appearance. She never felt comfortable in floor-length gowns and high heels. Especially if she was being stared at like that.

Acting on reflex, she hid the memo behind her. If she wasn't caught red-handed, she might have found the odd deja-vu rather amusing. Hera used to scold her like that when she was younger and she'd sneakingly get a book out of her purse to read in public occasions. But this time, she wasn't the cat that spilled the milk.

When the initial shock wore off, she held up the memo. In mere moments, Zeus went from surprised to shocked. Athena could guess what was going on in his mind at that moment. If only he had been more careful... If only he had put the file back into the Box... If only the door to his office had been locked... If only Athena wouldn't let her damn curiosity overcome her...

Maybe it was for the best that she had, after all.

Athena felt so much taller than she actually was at that moment. Her heart was beating wildly at what she was about to do, but she had no other choice.

It was for the best.

Angry and disappointed, she spat: "When were you going to tell me?"

Zeus rushed into the room, closing the door behind him. He approached her like an unarmed man would approach a wild animal. All the while, his gaze never left her strict silver eyes.

 _Fury doesn't become her_ , he thought. _It makes her look much more powerful than she actually is._ It was in moments like this that Athena resembled Metis the most. She was as levelheaded and stubborn as her late mother. Yet, Metis was loud and harmless. Athena was silent but lethal.

Nevertheless, he knew how to handle her. At the end of the day, he was still the one who raised her.

Holding her by the shoulders, he tried to explain. "I understand that you are disappointed. But it is an offer I cannot refuse."

She took a step back. Free from his grip, she bit her bottom lip and looked away. Never could she believe that her father would agree to fall to such a low level...

"So either you sell _her_ off or they buy _you_ off."

Her eyes met Zeus' again. He furrowed his eyebrows, revealing his own resentment about himself. She could see it. He hated to be used for other people's gain. But, most of all, he detested the idea that his children - his own flesh and blood - would believe him to be a weakling. A coward.

At least Athena could understand that he was only doing it to ensure what was best for his family. She was a pragmatist - unlike the rest of her siblings.

"The only way to get rid of the Petalas family is by intimidating them," he added. "They offer twenty million for Aphrodite's hand in marriage, plus another ten in stocks and bonds. I cannot beat them unless I rise above them. That's why I need Dione's money."

She nodded out of sheer habit. It was extraordinary. The same man who had taught her not to fear the harsh truth was now hiding from himself. But he couldn't run away from it forever. Sooner or later, it would come back to haunt him.

"They're playing a game of chess," she said. "You are the sole pawn on the board. It's up to you to decide whether you'll be black or white."

She wasn't fooling herself. Her father wasn't the powerful man that everyone said he was. Still, he did have some dignity in him. But, apparently, he had lost that as well.

"We don't have any private funds at all, Athena." he replied calmly. "When I told you that all our money was gone, I meant it. The Civil List and Tatoi are our only source of income at the moment. But we need to pay for the upkeep of the farm ourselves."

She scoffed, once again avoiding her father's gaze, and did the sum in her head. This wasn't the first time the Oceanides family were so... "generous" towards him. During the bitter battle over Aphrodite's custody, Dione's father had bribed King Cronus and his government with 2.7 billion drachmas in order to convince him to bend the Greek law, all for the sake of his favourite daughter. Today, this amount equaled eight million euros. Likewise, when Hera married into the family, both her dowry and her inheritance would amount to four million euros nowadays. Plus the annual revenues from Zeus' investments, Cronus' own off-shore secret business activities, and the earnings from the products of Tatoi... Until two years ago, they were worth almost twenty million euros in private funds alone. It was humanly impossible to lose all that money in so little time.

Unless you weren't careful enough.

She crossed her arms while Zeus continued his blabbering: "We're the poorest Royal Family in Europe, if not the world, at the moment. I won't have the rest of our peers take pity in us."

He was referring to the European royals. Even the deposed ones could make a laughing stock out of him if the occasion called for it. No one wanted to have an embarrassing relative, let alone hang out with them.

But then again, wasn't that the case with the normal families as well?

It shouldn't come as a surprise, then, that Zeus was trying to figure out ways to keep them afloat. Although, surely, he didn't have to turn to such medieval practices.

"What about our donors?" she asked sternly. "All those Greek tycoons and affluent businessmen gladly donate us huge amount of money every year. It's all about network, isn't it? Some sort of give and take. We give them part of our charm and they pay us back. Why couldn't we stick to that business transaction?"

She had uttered those words so bitterly that Zeus almost became furious at her. He was already staring at her like he had gazed Aphrodite plenty of times in the past. Athena knew she could pull the strings a little further, but even she knew better than to attract the King's fury.

"Wasn't that the reason Aphrodite had been requested to prolong her visit to the U.K and the U.S.? So that she could convince them to increase their generous contribution?"

Zeus hit his fist on the desk. "Questions will be raised and we do not need that under any circumstances. You do not know those people, Athena! Their world is a very exclusive club, like ours. But they go where the money goes. The Oceanides family are the jewel of their crown. Everyone wants to be their friends, for they are the most ruthless enemies you could possibly make. They can just squash you to the ground like the most insignificant insect. After Dione and I got divorced, they shut the door to my face and convinced their peers to do the same. It took me years to convince them to change their mind."

Without hesitation, she approached her father so that she could deal with him face to face. They made rather the ridiculous sight, for he was the giant and she looked as meek as a mouse due to her short height. Through clenched teeth, she asked: "But what about their donations?"

He couldn't take it anymore. "Who do you think pays for you to study at Oxford?!" he yelled.

Regretting his action immediately, Zeus stepped aside and walked towards the window. It was dark outside. Perhaps it'd rain later on as well. In the middle of the room, Athena was waiting for his next moves. Seeing him stand by the window, she couldn't help picturing him as standing at a precipice. Either he jumped by himself, was pushed off the hill, or he waited for the rocks beneath him to crumble and fall.

In the end, he'd die anyway.

But he was too preoccupied with his own downfall to care about the consequences his decisions had on others. He needed to be pushed back. And fast.

"And what if Aphrodite had never been born?"

It took far more courage to utter that question, although it did bring forth the desired outcome. Zeus faced her, not quite believing that that such a thing could dare be asked.

She furthered: "What if I was the Crown Princess and we found ourselves in this situation? Would I also have to be married off so that we could be relieved of your debt?"

In that alternative universe, Metis would have been a commoner, middle-class Queen (provided that she had survived childbirth). From the little Athena actually knew about her birth mother, she had not been a wealthy woman. So, her own maternal relatives couldn't "buy her back" like the Oceanideses were trying to do with Aphrodite. So, she'd have no other choice but to say yes. She'd have to be forced to step aside, watching her husband's relatives cash off from her family as much as they could, tearing their own self-worth apart little by little. Eventually, by the time she would ascend the throne, it'd have been too late. The damage would have been irreparable. She would have tried to ensure, however, that the Monarchy remained as unaffected from that vile display of vanity as possible. She'd have to plant the shaky throne firmly into the ground if need be, provided that she would keep the rest of her royal relatives as far away from harm as possible.

But she couldn't just do it on her own. She'd need them to help her.

It was the mistake that her father was making and which he wasn't even trying to fix. Her nanny's words could sum it up perfectly: "It's not how many friends you have. It's how many of them actually respect you."

Zeus walked up to her and took her face in her hands. She knew that look. "You're different!" he said, with an oddly soft voice.

 _How predictable of him_ , Athena thought. She hated to be sweet-talked into being convinced that he was right. That trick may have worked when she was a little girl with ballerinas and piggy tails, but she was too old for that now. The age of lollipops and chocolate candies was over. Now was the time to be rational. And calm. But didn't those two often go hand-in-hand?

She didn't want to stay in there anymore. The longer she looked at her father, the more disgusted she grew at him. For years, she had believed Poseidon to be the family's Mr. Megalomaniac. How great for him that his younger brother beat him at his own game!

She knew how they ended up in that situation. It didn't really take an expert to see the obvious. Hera's relentless and self-indulgent spending on clothes and luxury items; Zeus' agreement early on in his reign and under pressure by the Socialist government at the time to pay rent in order to occupy the Private Quarters (which the Conservatives kept promising to overturn but never really did); her and her half-siblings' education in the best private schools in Greece and abroad; their vain efforts to be as glamorous as other European royals... Zeus was right. Their "club" was awfully exclusive, with a membership granted solely due to birthright or because of marriage. Any attempt from "outsiders" (as most married-into members usually were) to fit in was regarded as pretentious and pathetic.

Unless you had a very good network. In that case, you could practically be counted as an elite member of that "club".

"You might as well sabotage both families and accept both offers," she replied calmly but bitterly. "The more the merrier. Isn't that what they say?"

Theoretically, the King was the most powerful and influential man in the country. In practice, however, his powerless title often did him more harm than good. He was the brightest, fanciest, and priciest merchandise in this endless store of opportunities and ambitions. Those who brought him to his knees could basically shadow-run the country. All the well-heeled sharks knew that. That's why the Petalas family made such a big fuss about Aphrodite.

She was the newer and shinier model of that same, boring, and dusty stock.

The Oceanides family were only trying to protect her. But Athena feared that they, too, might end up wanting a piece of the pie for themselves. After all, they could just shut down the country whenever they wished. Still, though, they didn't need Zeus to give them his blessing. Aphrodite had already done that. The Petalases were trying to follow on their footsteps, except that they were playing it safer.

Ostensibly, Athena had nothing to do with the dispute. She could never overshadow Aphrodite if she tried. The Crown Princess was born to be the bride at every wedding. As for her sisters, they were merely the bridesmaids, forever cursed to remain on the sidelines, being the supportive player. The day Aphrodite would become a mother, Athena would lose the position she had held since she could remember herself. And then Aphrodite would have another baby. And then Athena would be pushed back further down the line.

It was a rather vicious circle.

Maybe she was being too selfish. As Hestia had told her one day, her generation enjoyed way more freedom than her aunt's had done. "Your own cage is bigger," she had told her. To which Athena had replied: "Nevertheless, it is still a cage."

Unlike her or Aphrodite, though, Zeus had the keys. He could have set them free if he wanted to.

She didn't curtsy before she exited the room. It would be interpreted as a sign of respect and a recognition of his power. Simply put, it'd send out the wrong message. She hoped that he'd be smart enough to see that.

Closing the door behind her, she realized that heavy weigh on her heart. She and Zeus had never disagreed like that. She wouldn't let guilty overcome her though. She had a battle to prepare for.

She wouldn't even try to face the Oceanides family. Grateful as she was to Dione for giving her the family she now had, she still was very much a stranger to her. As for the Petalas family, the only way to get rid of them was to go against the current.

It was such a crazy idea that it was already doomed to fail. But then again, she'd never know for sure unless she tried.

She and Aphrodite would have to work together in order to get rid of Hephaestus. If her half-sister was indeed as desperate to get out of the situation as she kept saying she was, convincing her wouldn't be hard. Besides, only she could talk the Oceanides family into doing what Athena had in mind. As soon as they were out of the picture, Athena would turn the tables to her family's advantage behind Aphrodite's back. But she'd have to keep her out of trouble. Otherwise, the Oceanides family would once again make an appearance.

She would make sure that Aphrodite stayed away from harm.

That's what sisters were for, after all.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm so sorry for the late update but exams are coming up and so the next update will take a while too, because I need to focus on studying. BUT! Good news. This chapter is long enough to keep you entertained until then. Plus, the tiara-and-sashes event you've been looking forward to is coming up! It's gonna be chapters 28 and 29, so keep an eye out for them :)  
**

 **So, Happy New Year everyone (while we're still in January :P), enjoy the reading, and thanks to all of you who have followed and favourited the story in-between updates.**

 **Drop a review on the box too, if you want :) Constructive criticism never harmed anyone.**

 **Also, friendly reminder: the northern suburbs of Athens are the most affluent ares of the city, where all the rich and famous are. Sort of like the equivalent of the Upper East Side in New York or Kensington in London. Plus, the bit with the RF's donours is actually true. I don't know if it applies to other European monarchies as well, but at least the GRF used to take generous secret donations from affluent Greek tycoons etc., who supported the monarchy for their own reasons (whatever those may be).**

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 _26 December 2006_

 _8:30 A.M._

 _Alexander's Bar, Hotel GB_

Ah, yes!

There is nothing quite like finding yourself in an empty bar early in the morning. It's even better when your favourite bartender is there too and ready to poison you with whatever odd alcoholic concoctions your heart desires.

You might be wondering what I'm doing in here. Well, I needed to escape from all the hustle and bustle. As a matter of fact, I do have healthier things to do. I promised Niobe that I'd call her today and listen to her very detailed description of all the gifts that everyone in the Oceanides family received on Christmas. Yes, you heard that right. Every. Single. One.

Last time I checked, there were at least thirty people in this family. And that's just the closest relatives.

Welcome to Greek Families 101.

But, hey, look at the bright side. She's the only person in that family with whom I can have a decent conversation that doesn't involve food, Astris' baby bump, or those tiny cute little outfits that they bought for her unborn son. In fact, when I asked her how she felt about Astris' pregnancy, she actually replied, "Babies are disgusting. They pee their pants."

So there you go.

To bring you back to the here and now, though, my favourite bartender (god bless him) realized there was something wrong with me as soon as I sat on the stool. He kept throwing worried looks at me, as if I was in an awful need of charity. I know why. It's not every day that I get to show up in public without makeup, with leggings, sneakers, and a fluffy, worn-out sweater that I purchased from a high-street store in 2003. Mother hates it so much that she threatens to burn it in the fireplace unless I throw it away by 2007.

Well, don't look at me like that! We still have a few days to go until then!

Actually, the first thing he told me when he noticed me was, "You look like you've either escaped from prison, had a long night, or slept with a terrible lover."

Good for me, the bar isn't open for business just yet. Plus, I'm not entirely alone either. One of my bodyguards is currently sitting by one of the small tables a short distance away, hiding behind a ficus tree and reading a newspaper with a small hole in all its pages so that he can keep an eye on me.

So, in short, I make myself at home in here.

You can also tell I'm a good customer because he proceeds to make me a mint martini, but I catch him off guard for a change.

"Screw it!" I say. "Make me some hot chocolate and put gin in it. Lots of gin. Use that instead of water if you have to."

Boy, am I in a bad mood!

No, I don't want you to console me. If I may give you a friendly piece of advice, you'd better run and hide because I can be the most obnoxious person you've met in days like these.

Yes, I woke up this morning and saw that my time of the month has finally arrived. Thank you for understanding.

Good old Mother Nature always knows the best time to pay a visit, doesn't she?

The poor bartender is still so caught by surprise that he stops on his tracks and needs a moment to double take about what I just asked for. He must think I'm going mad, that's for sure. And then there's me, who remembers what a proper high-society lady she is and sits up straight for once, improving her posture and looking a little less like she's in desperate need of consolidation.

Still, I can't fool him. He can read me like an open book.

"Alright," he exclaims. "What's up?"

I run my fingers through my hair and avoid his gaze. He knows what that means. Confession time!

"I think I just broke up and I'm going out with my ex tonight to make sure."

Yes, you're right. I screwed up. You don't have to remind me, though. Judging by the way he looks at me, he agrees with you.

Still, he can't help asking: "Phew! Do I know either guy?"

"The ex is the one with the paparazzi."

"Is he the one whose kids you once said you'd love to have? He had a weird name, um... Anchises or something?"

And that is how you know you've been living in a hotel for far too long. I admit, though, I did confess to him a few things about my personal life that the most investigative gossip columnists would kill to find out. But it wasn't my fault. This guy has a way of making you speak up about things. For the record though, I was rather tipsy when I told him about that baby. I would never have shared such private concerns in public whilst in a state of total sobriety. But then again, I can trust him to keep a secret.

"Yup!" I exclaim. "That's the one!"

Let me tell you a story. Anchises and I go way back. We met three years ago, when I had gone out for a drink with my Three Graces. (That's the security code name of my ladies-in-waiting and I am very proud to admit that I came up with it!). So, as befitting of a good old-fashioned smooth operator, he asked the waiter to offer a glass of red wine to the "pretty blond on table 26". The girls had asked me to wear a red wig or any other kind of facade but I had grown sick and tired of them. It was a passing phase, though, much to their relief. Anyway, he didn't recognize me. He must have thought I was a Scandinavian Beauty or an English Rose of some kind. (As a matter of fact, I am more rosy-cheeked than the average Greek). So, I raised the glass he offered to thank him and, after undressing each other with our eyes for quite some time, I walked up to him. True to the facade, I introduced myself as Miss Julia Jackson from London, England, and spent the next couple of hours talking to him in a very strong RP accent which I have been taught both from my British royal cousins and from my Oceanides British-bred relatives. The trick worked though. Before I knew it, I was an affluent English tourist in Athens, spending the night with a charming Greek. Soon enough, that night turned into a whole week and, as time went by, we ended up spending three full months together. That summer, we spent two weeks in Crete. As you would expect, my security detail was in tow as well. Anchises may have started to suspect something then but I reassured him that I was the daughter of a very wealthy and powerful businessman and he never allowed me to go anywhere without protection (which doesn't count as a lie...). On our third day on the island, and after having spent two and a half months together, he realized why I looked so familiar to him. Still, I did cover it. I told him that I "happened" to be Crown Princess Aphrodite's double and that I would always get confused for her, hence the whispering behind our backs and the tabloid pictures in the press.

I admit, I thought that I was dating the stupidest guy on earth back then. But his looks made up for it, so I didn't really mind. Besides, he must have been so enthralled in me putting up such a stunt just to be with him that he had decided to keep it up without me knowing.

In any case, one night, I was perfectly sober and tired after a long day - and night - at the beach. As we laid on bed in our dark hotel room, I whispered in his ear that I'd love to have his baby. We'd make the cutest little boy in the whole of Greece, who'd end up having his father's looks and his mother's nose. I have no idea what had gotten into me. Maybe it was the intoxicating effect of Greek summer and the full moon over the Aegean Sea. And boy, did we get straight down to work! But it wasn't meant to be, sadly.

Can you imagine how Zeus Almighty would have reacted though?

Anyway, as Fate would have it, I ended up ruining everything. In my defense though, it wasn't entirely my fault. All I did was ask Anchises to take me out to that sea-side taverna he loved a lot. I had no idea that I would happen upon a French and very talkative classmate of mine from Le Rosey. She got so excited to see me again that she revealed my true identity to his face! We got into a huge fight that night and slept in separate rooms. The next day, since Anchises was no longer under my spell, I explained to him why I lied to him and begged him not to boast about our affair to anyone or the King wouldn't like it. Zeus Almighty may have no idea about his grandson who was never conceived, but he did find out about Anchises from the reports my security team would sent to the NIS and that, in turn, informed Thunder on a daily basis. So, to sum it all up, Father Dearest downright hated my boyfriend, Mother thought he was decent enough, and the rest of the world just didn't care. Or so they said.

But all three had one thing in common. They knew he wouldn't be my last fling. I was twenty-three years old for crying out loud!

Fast forward back to 2006 and Anchises and I have are good friends now. He's actually my shoulder to cry on. We still sleep together when the occasion calls for it. Like that time I told him that Zeus Almighty discovered his bisexuality a bit late in life. But don't keep your hopes up. We're never, ever getting back together. He doesn't want to be a royal and I don't want to become a mother just yet.

He also knows that, if he reveals any of my secrets or sells our story to the press, I'll be more ruthless towards him than Peacock is towards Thunder's lovers.

You've all been warned.

The bartender (let's call him Nikos for short) now has a stupid smirk on his face. "Does the baby-making offer still stand?"

"Why? Are you interested?"

"Nah. It's tempting and I'm deeply honoured. But I'm happy just the way that I am. Me, my wife, and my son." (Just look at him, blushing like the proudest father on earth!) "You know, the baby's into this new habit now. Every time he sees me, he bursts out laughing. I have absolutely no idea why. The minute I hold him, he just bends over. He's not even two years old yet and he's already mocking his own father. Tell me the truth. Do I have a funny face?"

"I don't like you for your face!"

"Thaaaat's prim. Thaaaat's grand. I try to get the Crown Princess of Greece to flirt with me and she tells me straight out that I'm the ugliest man alive!"

"Shut up!"

He takes it as a compliment. He's so thrilled in fact, that he raises his hands in the air in jubilee and tries to draw as much attention to himself as possible from me, his colleague, and my ficus-loving bodyguard: "Ladies and gentlemen! I did it! I made the lady smile! The King will make me a Knight!"

Yes, modesty is a trait he is incredibly proud of as you have noticed. Good for him, though, I still like him. I've known him since I first moved into the Royal Suite six years ago and he is still the star of every show and the only man that can cheer me up without me having to bed him. (Prior to that, though, I could only say that about Ares but we all know how that turned out.) I have spent years trying to convince him to do stand-up comedy but he never listens to me. Well, what can I say? Boo to him.

When I finally, somehow, manage to make him stop, I announce some very disappointing news: "We don't offer knighthoods for the best mint martinis in the land!"

"Well, you should! Because you won't ever get yourself a better mix than that!"

He pushes a brown cocktail in a martini glass towards me. I examine it closely. It looks like cold chocolate but with a touch of spice. I was expecting a water glass, in fact, but I know him well. For an award-winning bartender, he really does worry about the amount of alcohol I consume. And I'm his best customer for heaven's sake!

I bring it under my nose and smell it.

It's the moment he has been waiting for. "I shall call it... _Princess Moody_!" As he says that, he imitates the voice that I make when I christen ships. Remember Darla Trix, that drag queen who is my best impersonator and to whom I once gave styling advice because I wanted her to do me justice? Well, she just got herself a competitor.

"Yup," I reply. "That's me alright!"

I take a sip. Hm! My, that tastes like heaven! Honestly, it's far better than I expected!

"That's awesome! What did you put in it?"

"No, Ma'am. I shan't ever reveal the secrets of my art!"

I laugh and take another sip. That's amazing! The more I drink it, the better it tastes. But Nikos created it, so what do you expect? I place it on the counter and tap my nails on the polished wood. Random, but I think I've grown rather bored of French manicure. I should get back to trying those crazy designs that my team used to make me wear during my tour. I had tons of fun with those! Anyway.

Nikos is wiping up some glasses and I cannot resist interrupting him from this holy task. But I guess I am getting a little too desperate for attention. "Ask me something, please. Anything."

He holds up a wine glass against the light to make sure there are no spots. "Are you serious?"

"Please!" I drop my head to the counter again. "I need to cheer up before I go mad!"

Oh, no. Oh gosh no, I know that grin. I can guess what's coming.

"Favourite sex position!"

"Oh, you!"

Yes, he has asked me this question a million times in the past and yes, I do give him the same reply every single time. I may be a feisty mess with an excellent sense of style and great hair, but at least I do stick to my opinions. No such discussions on the counter. None. Ever. No matter how much he begs.

"Come on! I'm curious!"

"Phryne won't like it if she finds out we've had this conversation!"

That's his wife and I've met her. More than once. I even had dinner at their flat a few times. Tell you what, she makes the best spaghetti carbonara you'll ever gonna eat. And she's as crazy as her husband. They know. That's why they got married.

"She admires you, you know," her proud husband replies, changing the subject. "She says you're the least snobbish royal out there!"

"I see she's met my family, then. All five thousand people in it!"

I have no idea if this number comes any close to reality. I never bothered to count them all frankly. But if you look at the family trees of all the European Royal Families, you'll see that we're all, more or less, related to one another. There are so many of us out there nowadays, actually, that we cannot fit in one, consistent family tree, even if it takes up an entire wall at the Louvre.

I don't know if there is indeed that many of us out there. I never bothered to count them all frankly, but if you look at European royalty, you'll see that we're all somehow related to each other. There's so many of us out there right now that we can't even fit in one, fully complete family tree. That's why we're divided over various dynasties that reign over different countries. It makes things much simpler for historians, I imagine. Besides, now you know why royal watchers always get excited when there's a royal wedding or the Olympic Games. Those are actually the two occasions in which we're most likely to hold a not-so-impromptu family reunion and all hail us being photographed together like the big, happy family that we are!

Hooray...!

Nikos, who - bet whatever you want - has a big family himself as well, can't hide his surprise. "Woah! So, um... Any chance that the mysterious guest everyone in here keeps talking about might be one of them?"

"Nah. That one lives on the other side of the Atlantic." I nod for him to bend forward and whisper in his ear: "It's Mama Rose!"

Us two, Phryne, and Niobe are the only people on this earth who are allowed to call Mother thus. She will hate me for telling you this but her favourite song is 'Some People' from the musical _Gypsy_. It's ironic, actually, considering that she's as far away from the pushy stage mum archetype as the earth is from the sun. But I wouldn't be surprised if she quoted half the song to her father in order to convince him to give her half her inheritance so that she could found the Gynae Foundation.

"I knew it!" He slaps the counter in excitement. "You know, Phryne saw a picture of hers in a magazine recently. It was an event in New York or something. She looks just like you! Except for the chin."

"Zeus Almighty had to make his own contribution to humanity known somehow."

"Does she own a hundred pairs of designer shoes as well?"

"What?"

He gulps. Busted! "Phryne read in a magazine that you own a hundred pairs of designer shoes and that some of them are custom made. I promised her friends that I'd make you tell me."

He looks so innocent that I can't resist teasing him! "You can't go telling people we're friends! That's classified information!"

As a matter of fact, it could be. I'm not sure. I have to ask Lydia. She might know.

But, nevertheless, he still has that huge, stupid grin on his face. "One of them told me that some designers name their creations after you!"

"That explains why I keep seeing my name everywhere these days!" I joke. What he said is true, though. But that's a story for another time.

"No, for real. How many pairs do you own?"

At that very moment, my phone rings. And you always thought periods were the ones with the impeccable sense of timing... It's one of the Three Graces, gently reminding me to get a freaking move on. That's one of the many joys of my life. I can't even disappear for five minutes without causing a national emergency.

Well then. I suppose I'll just drink my _Princess Moody_ while I'll be getting ready.

Much to Nikos' disappointment, I get up to leave. But before I go, I show him that I still care about him enough to answer his question: "Seventy-nine!"

Eighty, if you include my slippers.

He whistles in astonishment. I leave in the most ladylike manner possible, with a chuckle and the drink in my hand. Within seconds, the bodyguard shows up from behind the ficus, too, and walks fifteen steps behind me and a little to the left. That's what they consider a safe distance that doesn't look creepy enough. But he's not my spying bodyguard, so that does make things less awkward.

Anyway, back to my boring routine I go. I have a long day ahead of me that will give way to an ever longer night. I guess I'll just stay away from alcohol for the rest of the week. I wouldn't wish for my skin to look horrible at the New Year's Eve gala.

Oh gosh, I just want the day to be over!

And it's not even ten o'clock yet!

* * *

 _10:30 A.M._

 _Lobby, Hotel GB_

A young woman was walking to the reception desk. A man slightly older than her and in a business suit trailed behind her. They didn't look like they were a pair. Rather, they resembled business partners, who had come to Greece on a sudden assignment. Judging by the air of authority she oozed, she was his senior partner or he was her assistant. Her outfit gave off that vibe as well. She was wearing black jeans, a white cotton shirt, a maroon coat, a matching leather big purse, and black high heels. Her hair was styled in a messy chignon and she was still wearing her huge sunglasses. She looked young, around her mid-twenties. She must have been the daughter of a wealthy businessman, who was expected to take over her father's business soon. So the man behind her, the one in the dark blue outfit, the matching tie, and the brown leather case, must have been her assistant.

Athena knew that she and her bodyguard would make such an impression. The camouflage was part of the plan. Despite having second thoughts about this, she needed to put her plan in motion as soon as possible, like an unpleasant task that had to be done. Besides, unfinished business never agreed with her. She always had to finish what she started.

Nevertheless, she couldn't help feeling like the bull in the china store. This was Aphrodite's realm in more ways than one. Athena had come prepared that she might not wish to see her. She had broken two fundamental rules of conduct that her half-sister lived by. First, she had come uninvited and second (and most importantly), she wasn't her most favourite person in the world. But surely, she wouldn't be so self-entitled that she would deny her current heir a surprise audience?

Holding her purse as close to her body as possible, she reached the reception desk. The two receptionist immediately greeted her with a smile. "Good morning, Miss! What shall we do for you?"

He was talking in English. Athena laughed to herself. Good for her, they hadn't recognized her. Or if they did, they didn't show it.

"Good morning!" she replied cheerfully in Greek, catching them by surprise. It would speed things up if they would figure out who she was this way. "I would like to see Mrs. Maria Papadopoulos, if you please."

That was the alias under which Aphrodite had been living in the hotel for so long. It was one of the few genius ideas that her half-sister had ever had. This name was so common in this country that no one could be impressed by it, memorize it, or even mind guessing who the woman behind it might be.

Besides, everyone knew who Aphrodite Olympios or Aphrodite de Grecia was.

(Athena had found out Dione's cover as well. Ellen Swanston. But hopefully, she wouldn't have to mention that name.)

The man typed something on the computer. Athena's bodyguard was keeping his distance. Ever the professional, he kept looking around in case he noticed something unusual. Athena had warned him against taking his gun with him but he had assured her that it would remain hidden underneath his blazer.

"I'm afraid Mrs. Papadopoulos does not accept any visitors."

"Yes, but I'm not just any visitor." She removed her sunglasses to reveal her face. The receptionist was so stunned to see her that he stammered a few incomprehensible words before Athena rushed to the rescue. "I am sure she will be thrilled to see me. But why don't you call her to make sure?"

If only she truly was as confident about this meeting as she sounded just now... Still, she wouldn't back down now.

Once again, the receptionist did as he was told. Picking up the receiver, he typed a number and soon enough, he was talking to someone on the phone. One of her maids, perhaps. Aphrodite wouldn't dare pick up the phone herself in a thousand years. Soon enough, their short discussion came to an end. Her bodyguard began to tap his shoe nervously, but he stopped when Athena tapped her fingers on the leash of her purse. It was an indication that he ought to stop and that everything was going according to plan. Twenty seconds later, the receptionist began to talk again and then, almost immediately, he hang up.

"Mrs. Papadopoulos will see you now. Room-"

"Thank you. I have been told!"

Smiling, she nodded to her bodyguard and the duo walked to the elevator. Once they were inside, and wary of the operator listening to everything they are going to say, her bodyguard whispered: "It will all be alright, Miss."

Athena nodded. "I know it will. But, in any case, do as I have told you."

She had stayed up all night trying to figure out whether there was more to her father's bankruptcy that met the eye. She had also asked her bodyguard and her Private Secretary whether it was possible that the government would have access to her father's private bank accounts and they had promised to look into it.

If all went according to plan, Aphrodite would agree to help her. But in case she did not, she had already set her plan B in motion. She had stayed up all night working on drafts of letters and emails, as well as planning phone calls and meetings with her father's most generous donors (some of whom were also fanatically pro-monarchy) to ask them - beg them even - to increase their generous donations by a tiny percentage. It was humiliating, to be sure, but she had to do it. She'd have also requested for an audience between her and the Prime Minister to be arranged, but she knew that it would have raised eyebrows - her father's first and foremost. But hopefully she wouldn't have to go to such great lengths. Her half-sister was a difficult person to begin with. But still, she was at the very heart of things. In more ways than one.

Only she could get them out of the labyrinth, even though she didn't know that yet.

Still, it was a big risk but one she was willing to take.

She had her family's integrity to protect.

* * *

 _Zeus and Hera's private car_

Zeus really couldn't understand his wife's behaviour sometimes. This morning, she had been her good old self, sticking to her schedule and avoiding him as much as possible. Even during their visit to an air force base at a nearby town, she had made some pleasant company to the officials and smiled for the cameras. For a moment, Zeus had actually started to worry that things had been fine between them and he couldn't tell why. But the minute they stepped into the royal helicopter to return to Athens, something changed. She had been staring out of the window and had avoided conversation.

Her husband had known just what he ought to do. As soon as they had arrived at the Royal Palace, he had asked for his own car to be prepared. He and Hera would go for a drive around Athens. It had been the only way to get her to talk to him. The Palace would offer her plenty of distractions, as the domestic staff was gathered in the Reception Hall, going through the final details before the luncheon the King would host for government officials in a couple of hours. Since Hera's role demanded she acted as hostess, she would use that as an excuse to avoid telling him what was troubling her.

He had been expecting her to refuse, so he had been awfully surprised when she had said yes. She had been so eager to get it over and done with, in fact, that she had not even given him some time to change. So, he was still in his parade military uniform (a dark blue tunic with matching trousers, a belt with the colours of the Greek flag, his medals, and a hat) whereas she was wearing the same grey pantsuit for her visit at the base.

They were heading to the northern suburbs of Athens but didn't have a particular destination in mind. A seemingly civilian SUV was following them, carrying their security detail. As for the King's car, bulletproof windows had been installed all over it.

Hera hated to admit it, but she had missed their long drives around Athens just to relax and clear their heads. She would often do it by herself as well. Over the years, driving for her had become some sort of support mechanism and a way to get rid of the initial shock and adrenaline every time she would find out about yet another of Zeus' affairs. Dangerous as it was for her to drive in such a state of despair, her car had offered her a more homely environment than the crowded Royal Palace ever could, since she could escape the worried glances, the prying eyes, and the whispers of her children.

But now that she was alone with her husband, she felt like she would rather be there than here. She had hoped that her husband would have learned his lesson by now. But, much to her disappointment, this was apparently far from being the case. She needed to find out whether the rumours she had heard recently were true. Plus, she had a favour to ask.

Zeus sped up. Usually, driving helped him relax, no matter what may have been troubling him. But now he was feeling tense. He couldn't stand Hera's stubbornness anymore. He knew why she kept acting like that. He had overheard her phone call to Amphitrite whilst they were getting ready to leave for the base. She had whispered to her that "someone" had seen him and Dione exiting the soundproofed room together the day before.

He had suspected that she had left the door connecting their bedrooms slightly ajar on purpose, so that he could hear her conversation. Nothing would surprise him with her anymore.

The last thing Zeus wanted was a renewed feud between his two wives. No matter how many ways he kept coming up with to tell Hera the truth, however, he soon figured out that he had best do what he always did - tell her straight out.

"You are being childish, you know." Hera remained silent. scoffing, Zeus added: "It was just a family matter!"

Hera pouted her lips and lowered her gaze. He was about to turn up the volume on the radio (he needed to listen to someone's voice in there...) but she spoke first.

"If that is the case, why was I not asked to join you? I am your wife, aren't I?"

"Now you are just being ridiculous."

He would start telling her about how they were no longer a love triangle and that everyone had made their choices. Dione had chosen the lifestyle and the career New York had to offer her and, by the looks of it, she and Tantalus would never move back to Greece. As for Zeus, he could have followed his mother's wishes and married a foreign princess or a British noblewoman. He had chosen Hera instead and together, they had to endure all the public scrutiny and the scandal that had ensued from his divorce. He had even come close to losing the throne for her sake. Cronus had been planning to name Poseidon the Crown Prince instead and, as a matter of fact, he would have indeed done so, hadn't the Parliament convinced him to step down a week after Zeus and Hera's wedding and whilst the nation was still divided towards her.

Nevertheless, Hera refused to realize that there were a few things that only Zeus and Dione should know about. He blamed himself for giving her so much authority in their marriage that she felt she had every right to know everything. It was too late to change her now.

"We were discussing a matter that concerns Aphrodite," he explained. "Like it or not, Dione will always be her mother."

Hera clenched her nails to her palm. She knew they would leave a mark but she didn't care. She hated this conversation as much as she did, if not more. But they had to finish what they had started.

"I heard your clothes looked... disheveled..."

Zeus let out a long sigh. So, that's what it was all about. She could blame the staff all she wanted but he knew the truth. Their loyalty to the Royal Family was undeniable and they would never dare to spread such nasty rumours about their sovereign couple, or else they would get fired at once. Zeus was certain that it had all been Eris' fault. But, despite her many shortcomings, Hera would never betray her own children.

Not wishing to get into an argument about their children, though, Zeus preferred to focus on Dione again. "She and I had to make amends for our daughter's sake. The only times we happen to talk on the phone or meet always has to do with Aphrodite. It's been twenty years. Both of us have made our choices."

"Zeus, just... stop it! Don't tell me the same old story about me being your rightful Queen. I've heard it one too many times."

He held on to the wheel tighter. Speeding up a little (as if speed would help him clear his head...), he decided not to fall on deaf ears again. "All right. What would you like to hear then?"

"What did you talk about?"

"Ask me one more time!"

Hera looked outside again. Zeus had made those words sound more like a threat than a warning. Nevertheless, she saw in it the chance she had been looking for. It was now or never.

"Fine," she said. "You may not tell me, if that's what you wish. But, if I may, I would like to ask one more favour. As your wife."

Zeus noticed her bitter tone as she had pronounced the last three words. Avoiding her gaze, he said: "Go on."

"Release Aphrodite and Hephaestus' engagement announcement."

He sped up. His wife hated it when he did that but it was preferable than hitting the brakes.

"I cannot do that!" he spat.

"Oh, you could just fine when we were young! Why are you so hesitant now?"

"Shall I remind you how different our circumstances were?"

The story about their relationship was an awful whirlwind. Their affair had started because Zeus had been overwhelmed with his new life as a husband, father, and Crown Prince (a job he had never prepared for) in his early twenties. Other guys his age (his own friends and brothers even!) were living like any young man should. Either they were partying, sleeping, or studying. They would go out with different girls every night and they weren't even considering settling down and starting a family. Hades may have abandoned that lifestyle soon enough to focus on his other interests, whatever those may be. But the same couldn't be said about Poseidon. Until Amphitrite came into the picture, he had earned the reputation that Ares enjoyed nowadays, that of the playboy prince. Much as he wouldn't admit it, Zeus had been jealous. He had felt that the years would be passing him by and he hadn't been doing anything to stop himself from wasting them on a wife that hated his royal status or by fixing the mess that his father had been making all these years. Then he met Metis. Shehad been six years his senior and wise enough to show him what he had to do. He had trusted her blindly. But soon, their relationship had started to drift apart, she had been having second thoughts, and she hadn't wished to become his official mistress. When she had gotten pregnant, his and Dione's marriage had already begun to crumble beyond repair. Eager for a confirmation of his masculinity and power, he had turned to Hera. For a time, the only person who had known about their relationship had been Hestia, who had been telling him to end it before it was too late.

When Zeus had proposed to Hera for the first time, Athena had been a few days old, unnamed, in hospital, and facing the perils of living as an orphan. Dione had convinced him to adopt her and she had supported him to that wholeheartedly, but she had refused to act as her stepmother. To make matters worse, she had already filed for divorce, forcing the government to put additional pressure on him to find a suitable wife or to save his marriage. It had been a nightmarish time that had also left a big blow to his ego. After his divorce had been finalized and Athena had legally become his daughter, he had proposed to Hera again, hoping that she wouldn't have been so overwhelmed by stepping into the shoes of her former best friend. But the Parliament and his parents had kept pressuring him to find a new wife and to start his family anew. They must have hoped for him to marry a foreign princess of a reigning monarchy, but Zeus had already made his choice. He had been decent enough to ask Hera for a third time and, not wishing to take no for an answer again, he had released their engagement announcement despite her consent. When Zeus had proposed to Hera for the first time, Athena had been a few days old, unnamed, in hospital, and facing the perils of living as an orphan. Dione had convinced him to adopt her and she had supported him to that wholeheartedly, but she had refused to act as her stepmother. To make matters worse, she had already filed for divorce, forcing the government to put additional pressure on him to find a suitable wife or to save his marriage. It had been a nightmarish time that had also left a big blow to his ego. After his divorce had been finalized and Athena had legally become his daughter, he had proposed to Hera again, hoping that she wouldn't have been so overwhelmed by stepping into the shoes of her former best friend. But the Parliament and his parents had kept pressuring him to find a new wife and to start his family anew. They must have hoped for him to marry a foreign princess of a reigning monarchy, but Zeus had already made his choice. He had been decent enough to ask Hera for a third time and, not wishing to take no for an answer again, he had released their engagement announcement despite her consent.

Besides, he knew her well. She would have said yes anyway. He had been offering the world to her on a silver platter. What more could she have possibly asked for?

Plus, she had been a distant niece of his mother, whose ancestors were related to the Romanovs. She was definitely more blue-blooded than Dione would have ever hoped to be.

"She is my daughter and heir," Zeus replied bringing them both back to reality. "I need to hear her giving her consent."

"You will never get that unless you force her to accept the marriage. Didn't turn out bad for us, did it?"

He noticed the irony in her voice once more. However, much as he had grown sick and tired of arguing with her about this ridiculous issue, he wouldn't reveal to her why he couldn't giver her what she wanted.

Dione would withdraw her offer otherwise and she would force her relatives to squash him down, like they had done during their divorce in 1982 and they had needed a way to force him to allow Dione to have joint custody of their daughter. Aphrodite had grown up though. They wouldn't be so kind this time around.

"I shall think about it," he replied.

"You have forty-eight hours, starting from now. I do believe this is plenty of time! Although... I may have a feeling that might you might not have to wait that long until you have Aphrodite's consent!"

Zeus clenched his teeth. Between his wife's threats and Dione's offer, he'd take the latter. He had everything to win from that and nothing to lose. But if Hera knew, she would likely leave again and he couldn't risk it. He would use those two days to come up with a plan to announce her his decision. She disliked the prospect of Hephaestus joining the family as much as he did, but for different reasons.

Making a U-turn, he started to head back to the Royal Palace. As he was driving back to the familiar surroundings of the city centre, Zeus wondered what Hera meant by him not having to wait long for Aphrodite to agree. But it was just a fleeting thought. He had more serious things to worry about.

His wife and her nasty games were not included on the list.

* * *

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

Athena is here. Kill me now.

I can hear her voice in the sitting room. Frankly, I don't know what she wants or why I told Anna to let her in. She shouldn't be here; she doesn't belong here. This is supposed to be my realm and Tatoi Palace is hers, so I suggest everyone goes back where they belong and continue to have the terrible day that they've been having.

Gosh, I hate complicated breakups. Almost as much as I detest complicated sister relationships I guess.

Come on now, Aphrodite, don't let her get to you. You'll step out there like the mistress of the tower as you are and you will give her a good old run for her money. You're Mame, she's Vera. You're taller and much better dressed than her. Plus, remember what Mother told you about the feuds she used to have with her own sisters. "If it doesn't get any better, it can only get worse."

I don't know why I think this is a motivational quote or whether it's Mother who told me that. But it's the best one that I have in handy. So bear with me.

Maybe I'll act surprised to see her here. But no, nope. Won't work. It doesn't work for prime ministers and heads of charities, it doesn't work for lower-ranking princesses either. I know, I know, I need to show her that this is my very own kingdom (oh the irony...) and that she's a trespasser.

Or maybe I can just ban her access to the hotel altogether. It sounds desperate and ridiculous, but it's just a phone call away.

Oh, screw it. I'll just walk in there and show her who's the boss.

If I could tell the current PM to get laid and get away with it, I can just as easily tell my dear half-sister what an unwanted visitor she is.

OK so. Take a deep breath, fix your jacket, and own the stage.

(I've just come back from an engagement so I'm in a dark green pantsuit. Very professional, don't you think?)

Here goes.

Athena is sitting on the sofa, legs and arms folded, but, as royal protocol instructs, she stands up the minute I step into the room.

Sticking to etiquette myself, I am the first to speak. Please though, last chance. Do tell me there is a secret camera in here and that this is all a very bad and very, very early April Fool's joke...

"When Anna told me you wanted to see me, I could not quite believe it. What do you want?"

It might sound rude - and you're right - but, hey, sometimes you have to jump straight to the main topic.

She looks at me straight in the eye, like she's the winner already, and speaks already: "I can get you out of this mess."

Fool her, Aphrodite. That's the best course of action. It's all Zeus Almighty's plan.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on!" She looks at me with a mocking smile on her face and it makes me want to slap her all the more. "You are being married off to Hephaestus Petalas despite your free will because Father is next to bankrupt. Your mother is here to buy you off and she has already made him an offer he cannot refuse. You may be fooling everyone else with your fine spirits and outwardly good mood, Aphrodite. But do not try that trick on me."

Has... someone made her the Crown Princess already and they forgot to tell me? Or has the rank of titles changed overnight? Last time I checked, I was the one that had every right to speak in such an authoritative tone in here.

Yet again... how does she know all that?!

There's only one way to find out and that's by continuing to play dumb. "What offer?"

Athena folds her arms again and tilts to the side. There she is again, overstepping her mark. "You haven't been told?" Short pause. We look into each other's eyes for a few seconds, yet no one is willing to relent. "Oh dear. You have not realized the situation you're in yet, have you? You're no longer being married off. You're being sold at auction! The Oceanides family is the highest bidder thus far. They've offered fifty million in return for your engagement to be broken. It won't be long before someone else jumps in with a better offer, will it?"

I scoff. Yes, I know about their plan. Mother told me over breakfast. And yes, I am furious at them. But it's the only way I can get out of this and if they ask for me to forgive them in return, so be it. I like them far more than I like my blue-blooded relatives anyway.

Still, I'd rather win the upper hand and make her feel like the fool in here for once. "You obviously have no idea what you're talking about."

"Father told me everything." Ha! I knew it! "But it doesn't matter anymore, does it? In the end, you will either marry Hephaestus or go on being single. Except that now, at least, you do know how much your freedom is worth."

I shouldn't let her get to me. Whatever happens, I mustn't let her win.

"My mother is only trying to fix the mess that Father has made."

She drops her head back in frustration. "For heaven's sake, Aphrodite, where's your dignity?!"

Fine. If that's what she wants, it's what she'll get.

"Why do you care?"

"I'm your sister!" Ha! She doesn't even know what that word even means! "Like it or not, I know you! All those years you have been... pestering us with self-respect and how it is the most precious thing we have, yet look at you! Hurt and devastated because you're too cowardly to tell Father straight out that you don't agree with all this! Why can't you just make everyone's lives easier around here and cooperate for once?"

That's not true. First of all, I did tell Zeus Almighty plenty of times that I will never consent to this travesty. But he always reminds me how the money is gone and how I have a duty to do towards my country and all that jazz. At the end of the day, he will still be The King. There's only so much I can do by myself to spite him without facing consequences.

"It's not as simple as you think!"

There she is, folding her arms again... "Are you afraid of him?"

What? No! Whatever gave you that impression?

"Don't worry," she adds. "So am I. Sometimes. Especially when he gets beside himself with fury and starts breaking everything!"

You know what, I give up. I sit down. She follows my lead as well. Thing is, it does take me a moment or two to realize that we are sitting on the same sofa. If there is indeed a secret camera in here, please tell me you will leave that part out. I don't want our parents to believe that everything is suddenly fine between us.

I bite my lip. Looks like the time for confessions has come and I am not ready for it yet. But it's inevitable. So I guess the best thing I can do is just... speak up.

"He keeps telling me that I hold the future of the family and of the country in my hands. It's up to me whether it'll thrive or be destroyed."

"You're drowning, aren't you? You just hope for a miracle when there's none to find. So you're just... waiting. Something might come up."

Man, she should've become a psychologist. This is exactly how I feel. But still, I won't relent.

"Look. The past few days have been crazy as it is. So spare me the metaphors and be clear. What do you want?"

She takes a deep breath, sits up, and looks me straight in the eye. "Your contribution."

"Pardon?"

"Here's the plan." Finally! "You are the only connecting link between the Oceanides family and us. Say that the whole thing was your idea and they will accomplish it in the blink of an eye. So, the Oceanides family let Father believe that he will receive the fifty million. In the meantime though, they buy off every single stock and bound of the Petalas family. It will crash their investments but it will seem like a routine business transaction. So, the Petalas family fall from grace, Father has no alternative but to break off the engagement, and then he will try to rescue what little self-respect he has left. Then your relatives come up with an even better offer to free you from his grasp but he will turn it down and settle for the Civil List, our affluent donors, and his own investments instead."

Well, this sounds good. Truth be told, I have already imagined how furious Grandpa or even Uncle Aias must be at the prospect of having to give Thunder part of their own fortune. But still, there is one tiny little detail to consider...

"Father may be avaricious, but he's not stupid."

"If he was smart enough, he wouldn't be so vain," she replies.

She sounds far more confident than I would in her shoes, I have to give her that.

"Still," I add. "You must want something in return."

"Only to help you."

She's a good actress too.

"Really? You don't even trust me!"

"Look. I won't pretend that everything between us is lollipops and roses. You blame me for your parents' divorce and for everything Hera has done to you. But you have to understand, I am the only way you can get out of this hell."

So, she's lost her patience with me twice in... ten minutes. I just broke a new record. But still, there is something about this whole... agreement that I don't like. I don't know if it's Athena's sudden friendliness towards me or something about her plan... But something just feels awfully out of place.

"Daddy's precious little princess..." I say ironically.

She rubs her knees and gets up. Then, suddenly remembering her place, she faces me for a few seconds and then starts pacing up and down nervously. Yup. That's how you know she was brought up by Hera.

Eventually, after five seconds or so, she tells me what I should have known all along.

"We had a disagreement, Father and I."

"Oh, how dreadful!" Yes, that was sarcastic too. I couldn't resist. And it's about to get worse: "Now you're no longer his little pawn!"

She scoffs. "I believe you know what it's like to be a pawn better than anyone else!"

OK, that's it. I've tolerated her enough. I won't stand this kind of behaviour right here, in my very own home!

"Get out."

She sits back down instead. "Not before you listen to everything that I have to say." Well, she's left me no choice. I take a seat as well. "You want to get rid of Hephaestus. Fine. So far, you have been at war with yourself. Ares may have something to do with that as well." Wait... How does she... Does she know? A-about us? And if she does, how much is too much? She won't tell me. Instead, she goes on with that annoying blabbering of hers: "You keep postponing giving Father your final answer but the more you do so, the more he loses his patience. One day, he will storm through that door and demand that you follow him to church right there and then. You'll be on your own then. Even your mother's money won't be enough to rescue you. Fifty million euros for your freedom! It may sound like it can buy you the world. But, knowing Father, I doubt it'll do much for his devastated pride."

Maybe I should ask her what she knows about Ares and me. Unless this is all a trap and she's waiting for me to get caught in it. I need to be very careful with her. She may have argued with Zeus Almighty but she will make up with him eventually. She's his favourite child and he's her sole living blood relative that she knows. There is no way I will know what these two discuss in private but in any case, I cannot risk it.

After a few awkward moments of silence, I finally give her the answer she's been waiting to hear. "I'll think about it."

I stand up. She does the same.

"All right," she says. "You know where to find me."

She makes her way to the door and I am left behind, biting my lip and feeling weaker than I've ever felt. She is about to walk out of the sitting room and into the foyer when I stop her.

"Tina!"

Gee, I haven't called her thus in years. It had been a nickname that I had given her when we were teenagers. I admit, there was one time when we actually had a close sisterly bond. We were almost as close as Astris and I have always been. Something traumatizing had happened in her life that had brought us close because I was the only person to whom she had confessed everything. She knew that I could keep her secret. I won't tell you that story just yet though. We'll save it for a more appropriate time.

Still, that long-forgotten term of endearment does work its magic. She stands by the open door and stares at me, waiting for my next words. "Yes?"

I draw a deep breath. "I don't trust you."

She bites her lip and holds on to the doorknob tighter. She doesn't rush to reply. "I'm not asking you to."

I approach her. This is getting more awkward by the second. Still, I do have a gut feeling that it will all turn out well. Perhaps, deep down, I do trust her. She sounds like she knows what she's doing.

"All right," I sigh. "On one condition."

For a minute there, I'm surprised by how taller she suddenly looks. But then I remember that she's in heels and I'm in my slippers. Maybe it's an analogy or a symbolism. Oh, don't pay any attention to that. I like to pretend I'm as smart as her from time to time.

She is eagerly waiting for my reply. I don't waste another second.

"Don't betray me."

She nods. "Don't embarrass me."

I guess we've just made a deal then. Or formed an alliance or whatever.

At long last, she exits the room and I feel like I can breathe again. I fall to the nearest sofa I can find and hide my face in my hands. Oh god, I feel like I'm the biggest idiot on the planet.

What have I just done?

* * *

 _ _12:30 P.M.__

 _Dione's suite, Hotel GB_

Dione was tired. This whole operation to save Aphrodite had taken its toll on her. Lying on her bed, she picked up her mobile phone from the nightstand and typed her sister's number. She could have called from the hotel phone as well but she didn't want to risk giving the number to Stansworth to the receptionists or to waste time talking to a staffer.

Besides, since Astris' pregnancy became known, Clymene always kept her phone in her pockets just in case.

It wasn't long before she heard her say in English: "I hope you're calling to make sure I have stolen all the jewels you've left behind!"

Dione grinned. "That's the spirit for a grandma-to-be!"

"Don't remind me, please! The baby hasn't been born yet and I have already run out of patience. Mother had this very elaborate Christmas dinner prepared. It was the most elaborate meal you can imagine. Yet all my darling daughter wanted to eat was a crepe filled with chocolate, raw asparagus, walnuts, maple syrup, tomatoes, fried bacon, a boiled egg, salmon, raw noodles, and truffles. Can you imagine? Truffles!"

Dione laughed. "Don't talk to me about cravings, Clymene, I'm still traumatized by the sight of you eating chocolate ice cream with pickles for breakfast!"

"You're so lucky you didn't have to deal with those stupid cravings! Anyway, how's Froufrou? Eidyia has been wondering what happened with her boyfriend. The handsome one."

She was Clymene's immediate older sister by two years and, as that, she was Dione's elder by four. Everyone in the family knew about the "other guy" in this odd pair that was Hephaestus and Aphrodite. She had told them on Christmas Eve, after Tantalus had announced the real reason she had to leave for Greece so abruptly. Yet, eager as they were to find out more, she explained that he was a "bad boy flirt" that made Aphrodite's life a worse mess than it already was.

"They broke up," Dione replied, sounding more cheerful than she intended. "She keeps trying to convince everyone that she is alright by keeping herself busy, but her behavior only helps confirm that the opposite is true."

"At least it's over. He sounded like he was quite the trouble anyway."

"I can't tell you just how relieved I am! How about you, how's Stansworth?"

"Enormous, made of marble, and as creepy as you remember it. I'm pretty sure this place is haunted. I heard someone play the piano down the hall. Again!"

"Aw, how sweet! Your ghostly friend has missed you!"

It happened every year. That's why Clymene avoided going to Stansworth but once a year. It had all started on a perfectly calm night in April when Clymene and Dione were fourteen and twelve years old respectively. Dione had never seen her (normally) fearless endless sister tremble like a leaf before. Soon enough, she had found out that Clymene had had trouble sleeping and so she had gone to a walk inside the house. When she stopped outside the Music Hall, she had heard someone playing the piano. At first she had thought that it might have been one of her parents or her siblings. They had all known how to play, certainly someone must have been suffering from insomnia as well, and the Music Hall was too far away from the bedrooms to bother anyone. But then it had dawned on her. The room had been kept locked at nights and only the housekeeper and her mother had the keys. There had been no way that either of these women would wake up that early in the morning just to play music...

So, there was only one sensible explanation about this...

There were ghosts in there!

(Over the years, Dione had encountered that sound as well. But since she never believed in supernatural elements, she blamed the butler for the distress. He had been working for her parents for decades and everyone treated him like family. He was suffering from insomnia too, poor him. So, Tethys had given him the keys hoping that music would help him relax. But Clymene refused to grow up. So, they had nothing better to do than tease her endlessly about it.)

"Stop that, you're giving me goosebumps!" the fearless sister laughed. Out of the blue, a man's voice was heard in the background. "Oh, hold on. Aias wants to speak with you. He says it's urgent."

He was the eldest of Oceanus and Tethys' children. As such, he had been the head of the Oceanides Business Group and their maritime company, Kypris Shipping, since their father's retirement fifteen years ago.

He also refused to communicate with his family in a language other than Greek, despite his strong English accent.

"Hi, Dione. So, what did Broccoli say when you told him about the fifty million?"

She grinned at the sound of that nickname again. Tethys had called Zeus thus after his and Dione's official engagement pictures had been released. Zeus had still been rather uncomfortable with the spotlight back then and so he had looked uncomfortable whereas Dione had been her well-known, beaming self. Or, as Tethys had put it, "He holds himself like he's some sort of boiled broccoli!" Never mind that her future king and son-in-law had been standing right behind her! As a result, Zeus had developed an aversion towards it ever since.

But soon she came back to reality. "I'll have his answer within a week."

"It's a yes then."

"We don't know for sure."

"Trust me. No one's stupid enough to turn down such an offer. But, look, I spoke with my advisors. We all believe that there might be something wrong with that Petalas family."

"What do you mean?"

"They can't have acquired all that wealth merely via their investments. They must surely have done something terribly illegal."

Dione hated to think what it might be... "Money laundering?"

"Worse. Industrial espionage. Their grandparents made their fortune on the black market and acted as German spies during both World Wars. I don't want our family to be in any way associated with them. They'll sully our own name for their gain."

"So, what's the plan?"

"We can destroy them. As soon as we have found out everything there is to know about them, we will search for ways to get them bankrupt."

She wasn't surprised. Aias had always gone to great lengths to protect his family from harm. Tethys blamed it on the fact that he had had no wife or children of his own and thus he had come to treat his siblings and their families as the essence of his duty. Their father had been a tougher businessman, always going for the chance when he saw it, but he trusted his eldest son. After all, Aias had been working for Kypris Shipping since he had been fourteen. The company and their wealth were in safe hands.

Dione knew that her brother would hate her upcoming suggestion. But she had been taught to speak her mind. "Can't we just... buy them off?"

"No. That'd be too obvious."

"We need to show them our steel!"

"Exactly!"

He sounded like he wouldn't even debate it. Still, Dione was too stubborn to give up without a fight. Just like him. "But we'll be playing by their own rules otherwise."

"We won't stoop to their level. Surely they're using Zeus as a way to get to us. So the best thing we can do is lock the door before they can find the house."

She sighed. "So how long will it take?"

"We're in the middle of carrying out a thorough research on them. Family history, finances, investments, properties, assets... Everything. Once we have come up with the right way to go unnoticed, it can be done overnight. But, on the odd case that they are completely fair and innocent, we have also come up with another plan. We have reached an agreement about how far we're willing to go to ensure Aphrodite's freedom."

Dione knew what Aias meant by that. "How much?"

"Two hundred million euros. In USD, it's a bit less."

She gasped. No, that was too much money. Aphrodite may be worth that much but Zeus' family should definitely be not!

"He'll turn it down."

"He won't," Aias argued. "With that money, I can buy the Royal Palace and the whole 11,000 acres of Tatoi, including everything that's in there, plus leave them with plenty of money to live the rest of lives in sheer luxury without lifting a finger. He'll be Europe's wealthiest monarch!"

"I insist."

Aias sighed. He was getting impatient. "We'll still be billionaires, if that's what you're worried about. We have a net worth of 63.2 billion dollars, for heaven's sake! Look, I'm not saying you should tell him right away. Make that offer to him only after he has turned down the fifty million or if he has accepted and the Petalas family want to play tough. They don't have that amount of money and I don't want to be blackmailed by a bunch of nouveaux riches. Those craps always think too highly of themselves."

Dione suddenly came up with another idea. "I could just meet with Hephaestus' parents. I'll go representing our family and-"

"And what? You'll have to buy them off anyway. Then you'll also turn Zeus further against you. The Petalas family are offering twenty million in investments so that their son can, pardon the language, get between your daughter's legs. If they're as eager as they say they are, they will raise it up to thirty million the most. Broccoli is a smart guy, he'll sure want to ensure a few good millions for himself with that covetous wife of his."

"I can't just sit back and do nothing!"

"Try to take Zeus on our side. You have already got him out of trouble plenty of times and he trusts you, even though he'll never admit it. As for Hera, she's so possessive of her husband, she might as well be jealous of Amphitrite if she happens to kneel before him!"

He was referring to the curtsies that everyone had to do when greeting the King. Perhaps Aias hadn't realized how odd that sounded or that was precisely his goal. Still, Dione rushed to prove him wrong. "That's unlikely. They're like sisters."

"So were you and Hera back in the day."

She sighed. "I don't like it. We shouldn't have to go to such great lengths to break off a match that hasn't even become official yet!"

"We are all working to ensure Aphrodite's happiness. That's why we're willing to cross the line for her."

"I know. So does she."

"Hey, don't worry. It will all turn out just fine. See it as our belated Christmas gift for her!"

She grinned. "Hopefully it'll be a good one!"

"It will be. You already offered Zeus far more than he had ever hoped to get! The circumstances work in our favour."

Hopefully Aias was right. But Dione was trying hard to share his optimism and enthusiasm. She knew Aphrodite well. She'd be so eager to be done with it as soon as possible that she would seek all sorts of comfort. She had mentioned going out with Anchises tonight. Although Dione hadn't asked for more details, she had simply hoped that there would be no photographers around. She could only imagine the havoc that would emerge from rumours of the two being back together!

But, even if they did, Dione could also use it as a trump card against Zeus. It would work as further proof that the match with Hephaestus would do more harm than good. Aphrodite wasn't capable of change and she wasn't mature enough to get married either. Zeus was dreaming that the wedding ring on their daughter's finger would be enough to transform her into a faithful wife, but it didn't work this way.

The only way to ensure that Aphrodite would be faithful towards her husband is to have her choose him herself. Everyone loved a good love story, after all!

Perhaps she needed a rest. She needed time to absorb everything that she had been told. This way, she could come up with a better plan than the one Aias had proposed.

 _It's all for Aphrodite_. At least she could find some solace in that thought...

* * *

 _Aphrodite's limousine, on the way to the Royal Palace_

I can't take it anymore. I know I shouldn't just keep staring at my phone constantly like an inexperienced and lovesick fourteen-year-old. But I can't help it. I want Ares to do something. Anything! Show me you want me to forgive you, you idiot! Ah! I rather miss his drunken self knocking down two of my best bodyguards to come to me. He looked like a messed-up Prince Charming slaying the dragon before reaching for the princess in the tower.

Oh, how I miss the good old days!

Or last week for that matter.

Wait a second. That must be the trick then. He must fight for me or else I won't bother coming back to him. Forgive me but I do not wish to deal with cowards or selfish people. He must apologize. And I need to hear him admit it.

Maybe he's already waiting for me at the Royal Palace to tell me so in private. That is highly unlikely though. I am currently in my car, having just visited one of the many Christmas markets in Athens and, after being followed around by journalists and greeted by cheering crowds quite a lot, I am now heading to the annual post-Christmas luncheon that the King hosts for all the members of the Government. So, if you miss me, I'll be busier socializing with our boring ministers and their equally unimportant spouses for the next few hours, thank you very much. As for Ares, he can go to hell and beyond as far as I'm concerned.

Oh! I forgot! The Base! The time has come for him to return to Alexandroupoli. Now, normally, I'd be both sad and relieved by his departure. I wouldn't be able to see him, hold his hand, or smell his favourite cologne for another few good months at least and yet, the farther away he is from me, the less chances there are that someone might suspect our relationship. Especially Peacock. I swear this woman could double as a 24/7 security camera.

But now I guess I'm just... eager? Impatient? Excited even? I don't know. Is there a word to describe that feeling when you want him to get a freaking move on and do something at long last?

I could ask someone, but the only two people in here with me are my chauffeur and my bodyguard. True to courtesy and discretion as they are, they pretend to be listening to the radio, paying as little attention to me as possible.

See, that's the difference. Even my spying bodyguard (who, for better or worse, is sitting right in front of me right now) knows the basics of proper social behaviour. And then you have Prince Ares of Greece - or Ares Olympios for short -, who received the best education available, knows more about protocol and etiquette than any other man I've dated (including Hephaestus for obvious reasons), and yet, despite all that, he still cannot bring himself to admit that he's sorry!

You're right. I shouldn't act like that. It only makes him win. So, since I now have nothing better to do apparently, I open my purse furiously and throw my phone into it. I sigh and look outside the window to pass the time. Look at us, grand as we are, passing by normal people, oblivious to the golden cage we're living in and the fact that we are real people with real feelings too...

Yes, I know, I am getting repetitive and I do apologize for that. But I need to keep myself entertained somehow. I guess I could just close my eyes and actually listen to the songs on the radio. I love how each song tells a different story! I play a small game each time I listen to an old and familiar song - I close my eyes, pay attention on the lyrics, and picture the circumstances that led to the situation the song describes. It's a great game and I suggest you all give it a try. Personally, it helps me relax as much as swimming does. (Plus, it makes me reminisce about past relationships because I have already experienced many of the situations and felt most of the emotions that these songs describe as well).

But today, I cannot focus well enough to do the game justice I'm afraid. I keep listening to words without meaning, melodies without rhythm, and singers who sing more flat than my poor half-brother Pelops. He will hate me for telling you that, but this is the reason he is still single. No sane girl wishes to be with someone who makes her want to wear earplugs all the time, unless she is so deeply in love with him that she can tolerate everything. For better or worse, though, I don't have a choice here. I am his sister so I guess I find a way to grow immune to this musical travesty before it's too late.

Frankly, I wish I could say the same thing about the radio too.

"Do turn it off, please!" I protest. "Or put on some Beethoven!"

You can tell I'm still not in the best of moods because I'd rather listen to 'Ode to Joy' and 'Für Eloise' instead of mainstream pop music for hours on end. But it could have been worse. I could have gone for Bach instead.

I swear his music makes you feel either sleepy or like an Austrian Empress.

Please don't tell my piano instructor that I've told you that.

"As you wish, Miss."

Both the chauffeur and the bodyguard look at me through the rear view mirror. They could tell that I am not having the best of days since early this morning but I guess that my wishes not to listen to pop music anymore confirmed their worst fears. I never listen to classical music on the road unless I really am not in the mood for social interaction. So, seeing that he had no other choice but to tolerate me until the end of his shift, my spying bodyguard opens the glove compartment and takes out the rather overfilled CD case.

Please remind me to come up with a better nickname for him at some point. 'Spying bodyguard' is getting too long and 'stalker' sounds scary. We need something shorter and sweeter perhaps... How about... Spybo? No. Better not. It sounds either like a dog's name or a rocket model. Or a badly advertised vibrator.

Well, then now I guess I do have something to keep me busy.

I hold my purse tighter to my chest, as some sort of shield. It's not big enough to count as such, but it can do the job when I want it to. Soon enough, the "Ninth Symphony" fills the car and I lean back, close my eyes, and try to focus on the melody to clear my head.

Thirty seconds. That's how long I can last as a perfectly classy and mature woman who can handle break-ups like a boss.

But then my phone rings and the eager teenage girl returns.

It's not the Christmas miracle I have been wishing for. It's Lydia. In a short and sweet message filled with instructions and written in a stern tone, she reminds me that I have to visit the headquarters of a women's charity I happen to be the patron of as soon as the luncheon is over. My spying bodyguard takes his own phone out of his pocket and stares at it. Typical Lydia, making sure everyone gets the message! I have already given her a raise on her perfect organizational skills. I cannot give her another one or else I'll find myself in trouble again.

I flip the phone and then it rings again. It's... Hephaestus?!

Well, that's odd. I do remember me saving his number on my device but for the life of me, I cannot ever recall giving him mine. Actually, I did, but it wasn't the number to my private phone. I do want to get close to him but not dangerously so. Besides, every time I happened to call him since the gala (or was it after Ares and I "disappeared"?), I did so from the hotel's phones.

Maybe it's all Zeus Almighty's doing. Or Hera's even. To be frank, I wouldn't be surprised either way. He's too eager to see me get married and she's too worried that I might steal her precious little baby boy away from her. Unless it's all my fault and I gave him my number in the spur of a moment. No, my team of staff can't have done it. They have strict instructions not to give this number to anyone and for whatever reason.

Look, I get it. The when and how doesn't matter. He has it, that's the end of it, and now I won't ever, ever get rid of him. Damn it!

I choose to ignore the message. If not altogether, then certainly for a few good hours at least. It won't count as me avoiding him if I reply a little after midnight, will it?

Ooh, hold on, I think I have a better idea.

Ares is so awfully jealous of Hephaestus that he has compared me to Daisy Buchanan. Right? Right. Since he returns to Alexandroupoli tomorrow, he'll be too far away to care about what is going on in good old Athens and I don't even know if they sneak gossip magazines inside the base or whether his own friends or staff will inform him on my whereabouts. So, in short, if the Anchises trick or Athena's plan won't work, I may have to do Thunder's favour and actually establish a relationship with Hephaestus. Or Mr. Buchanan or whoever he was supposed to be in this story.

Then Ares will start reading even more books involving legendary love triangles, compare their situation to ours, and end up discussing them with Hephaestus. Long story short, he'll end up founding his own book club.

Oh, what love can make people do!

Then again... He might think that my turning to Hephaestus for some love and affection is pathetic and that I'm desperately seeking attention. No, the Anchises trick is better. There are already rumours that the two of us are in an off-and-on relationship, so that will seem more believable than making a Jay Gatsby out of Hephaestus.

Speaking of, I can see a similarity between the two. They are both just two sensitive men who happened to fall for women who don't love them back. Maybe. I need to read the book again.

But there is also another possible outcome. Ares finally wakes up, apologizes, I act all stubborn to teach him a lesson (and to ignite his fire for me anew), and everything goes back to the way it was before.

Ugh! I hate this mess. But I also love it so. It's the most exciting thing I have experienced since that night in Chelsea.

Yes, my life could have been far easier if I could have controlled my urges. But it would also be awfully dull. I don't want to mold and whither like Queen Demeter or Princesses Hestia and Athena. (Queen Rhea is another story and I'd rather not talk about it.)

I know that I'll end up with a broken heart, crying myself to sleep at night and bitterly regret all the distress that I caused. But tears make joy all the sweeter. Same with love and pain. It's a symbiotic relationship and you cannot have the one without the other. You learn to laugh your heart out only after you've cried rivers and vice versa.

In short, life is about feelings and adventure. If you are completely numb to all that it has to offer, then what's the point?

My sincerest apologies for getting philosophical. It's part of my coping strategy too.

Well, that's news. I didn't even know I had one!

Prim, huh?

(By the way, what was the name of that narrator in Gatsby? I may have to name my spying bodyguard after him if I can remember the name. Don't give me that look, I'm sure it sounds better than Spybo in any case!)

* * *

 _4:00 P.M._

 _The King's Office, Royal Palace_

Zeus poured himself and the Prime Minister a glass of whiskey. The two men had left the hustle and bustle in the Reception Hall for the privacy of the King's Office which, conveniently enough, was on the opposite side of the Palace. Neither of them expected that their absence would go unnoticed but at least they had one very important alibi. There were no days off when it came to state affairs.

Especially when it came to such delicate matters.

The PM was sitting on the sofa, watching as the King approached him and handed him his drink. Truth be told, he needed it more than he had jokingly admitted he did. After enduring his wife chatting and laughing with the Queen and other guests from the minute they had gotten to the Royal Palace, he would now have to convince the King not to accept the offer.

Easier said than done.

Nevertheless, he couldn't help smiling inside at the irony. Normally, it was the King's right to be consulted and, in return, he encouraged and warned. But now, it seemed like the tables had turned.

Still, it was clear who was the most powerful man between the two.

"Let us be clear for a change, Mr. Kallinikos," the King said as he was sitting down on the armchair next to the sofa the PM was sitting on. "I did not invite you here for a drink and a friendly little chit-chat. We have known each other for years, so I suggest we speak plainly. I expect you have read the memo."

"I have indeed, Sir." The PM wanted to take another sip but soon decided against it. He placed the glass on the coffee table and folded his hands. "Mrs. Oceanides' offer is indeed tempting. But I don't know if it would be wise to accept it just yet."

It was exactly what Zeus did not want to hear. But he wasn't surprised by the Prime Minister's reaction either.

"Neither of us can afford second thoughts," he said. "The Queen is urging me to release the Crown Princess' engagement announcement. Apparently, she wants to get rid of my ex-wife sooner than I do. On the other hand, I cannot wait to shut the door to the Petalas family's faces. I would like for us to find a middle ground."

"Sir, if I may, my government have already agreed that they will consent to the marriage between the Crown Princess and Mr. Petalas the minute you give us permission to do so. Following the Queen's illness and the Crown Princess' photos fiasco, the Socialists have been turning against the Monarchy all the more. You are no longer praised as the 'socialist King'."

Zeus nodded. He hated the sound of that nickname almost as much as he loved it. He had earned it during the early years of his reign, when all the modernisations he had introduced - the Absolute Primogeniture Act of 1983 chief among them - had earned him the support and respect of the then-Socialist government. In the years that followed, the power shifted back and forth between the Socialist and the Conservative parties, leaving the smaller parties very much in the shadows. Had he not being such a revolutionary young monarch, Zeus would have ensured the Royal Family's downfall only a few years after the Monarchy in Greece had been restored. But he also didn't have any illusions. Of course the years had gone by and had left a bad mark on him. With a female-dominated Royal Family and with daughters pretty as that, it wasn't surprising that the country had bigger, younger, and prettier fish to fry.

"I have to say, it was a very smart move and congratulations," the King replied. "But your party is still leading the polls and if a general election were held tomorrow, you would win by a landslide. Mr. Petalas might ensure the future of the Monarchy for a few more years, I agree. But we need someone that can secure for us a bigger lifespan. Someone truly powerful."

The PM could see what the King was so worried about. "The Oceanides family won't withdraw all the capital that they have invested in Greece if you turn down the offer."

"You know how the Monarchy works, Mr. Kallinikos. We do not think five or ten years ahead. Our current actions need to ensure that the Royal Family will still be here, unharmed, in fifty and in a hundred years from now. Besides, politics is like the weather. Especially in this country. You have all the equipment to predict it. But there is always the factor of unpredictability. It would be better to have a lifeboat in case the ship sinks."

The PM hated it when the King got so Homeric. Still, he had to give an answer that wouldn't make him come across as foolish or unprepared. "So we have no choice but to stick to tradition."

Zeus grinned."The Oceanides family don't cut off business ties with Greece so that they wouldn't harm Aphrodite," the King explained. "Her ascension to the throne will be their long-awaited revenge on us. Which is why I'd rather make them my friends rather than keep them as my enemies."

"The Crown Princess though might interpret this new-found freedom in an... inappropriate fashion."

"Her mother will make sure to keep her away from scandal. I spoke to her this morning. I do not interfere in my daughter's personal life as long as she can keep a close eye on her."

Dione hadn't been pleased to negotiate that condition, especially over the phone. However, Zeus had insisted that that had been the only way he would have accepted the money. Besides, both Greek and monarchical traditions instructed that he gave his permission to his children's marriages - both as father and as sovereign. After all, considering all the sacrifices that she had instructed him to make, she, too, would have to give something in return. She had said herself once that business and diplomacy were an endless give and take.

And if only the PM would be as easily convinced as her... "With all due respect, Sir, it is still the Crown Princess we are talking about..."

"Exactly."

The PM scoffed. He knew what the King meant by that remark. No matter what they did, she would always be in a more powerful position than them thanks to her maternal family. She would receive between seventy and a hundred million dollars upon her grandfather's death - who was already in his nineties. Plus, she had a wide network of people at her beck and call to ensure that she invested her money wisely. So, the best course of action for them would be to go with her flow. "Still, she cannot be allowed to ascend the throne as a single woman. She needs a man by her side, someone that will make her look like she can do the job right. King Cronus is not getting any younger and with your approval ratings continuing to suffer..."

"So you suggest we do nothing but play matchmaker all day?" Zeus sneered. "I cannot abdicate as long as my father is alive. But on the case that I could, I would rather the Crown Princess had a child or two by the time I stepped down. However, this is the least of my problems for the time being. Let us jump straight to the main topic. Money."

That was the topic that the PM had prepared for all along. "I can ensure that the fifty million that Mrs. Oceanides has offered you will go to the Privy Purse, as is the case with your revenues from all your investments."

That meant that the money would be left to the Royal Family's disposal for them to spend as they wish. But Zeus wasn't that stupid. The government had access to the Privy Purse, even though it was supposed to be in the sole use of the Royal Family. Their state allowances belonged to the Civil List, for which they also paid income tax. It was a move that was questioned by many Greek citizens, who had also demanded full knowledge of the Royal Family's private finances as well. But the agreement had been met with the Socialists back in the 1980s and the Conservatives had figured out early on that it benefited them as well. Still, there was one tiny detail that only the King and his prime ministers knew about - a small amount of money that belonged neither to the Privy Purse or the Civil List.

"I am not planning to deposit it in Greece," Zeus stretched. "I have a bank account in Switzerland for a rainy day, as you know. As soon as the debts have been paid off and I have invested the remaining balance according to Mrs. Oceanides' wishes, I shall deposit all the revenues from those investments in there. It will be destined for private use, after all."

"Of course. It's also what the Crown Princess does with her allowance from the Oceanides Business Group, if memory serves me right."

"No. Her grandparents have set up a trust fund for her in New York. She pays for her personal expenses in dollars. I shall pay in Swiss franc. Both currencies are stronger than the euro, wouldn't you agree?"

Zeus and Dione had made that arrangement when Aphrodite had turned fifteen. For better or worse, it had been Zeus' idea that only she would have access to the money. He had been hoping to take the Oceanides family by his side that way. Instead, they had been using it against him ever since.

The PM nodded, taking another sip of his drink. He always hated being confronted with such negotiations. But it came with the job and he loved holding that office. "I suppose you wouldn't wish for the media to find out about this kind of... transaction."

"Correct. We need to shut the door at those investigative journalists before it is too late. People trust them and the more they praise them, the deeper they will dig."

"Seeing that we live in Greece, though, you should have a Plan B."

"I have already come up with one. But even the best of friends can keep secrets from each other."

As soon as he said that, Zeus stood up and rang the bell. The PM also knew that their not-so-impromptu audience had come to an end. One of the King's Private Secretaries opened the door while the two men were shaking hands. The PM bowed his head before walking out of the room, leaving Zeus on his own. He knew that he would have to join the reception as well but he needed a few moments to himself first.

Now that he also had the PM's personal support, nothing could stop him from accepting Dione's offer. Hera would be furious but she would forget everything the moment she'd check the balance of their back account. As for Athena, well... she couldn't be mad at him forever. Sooner or later, Hera would convince her to change her mind. Those two had an odd relationship, yet always respected each other. Besides, Hera had been the only mother that Athena had ever known. Despite her independence, she did an older and wiser woman to support and guide her from time to time.

He gulped down the rest of his drink. Truth be told, he had not come up with a Plan B. Dione's offer was clear - all or nothing. He couldn't afford any other tricks "just in case".

As for Aphrodite, he'd see what he'd do about her later. He had to let the smoke clear first.

That was the only he could tread carefully with her.

* * *

 _11:30 P.M._

 _Ares' bedroom, Royal Palace_

Ares threw his khaki clothes into the matching duffel bag with force, his frustration overwhelming him. He was returning to the base tomorrow and that made him both eager and hesitant. Alexandroupoli was far away from Athens and his job there would keep him too busy to think about Aphrodite. Still, he knew that there were a few things that needed to be settled between them.

But no. He wouldn't be the first to beg. She'd have to do so herself.

 _Wake up, you idiot!_

Standing over the 'sausage' (the soldiers' nickname for their duffel bags), he contemplated whether he had packed everything he needed before zipping it hastily.

He felt ridiculous. His phone was right there, resting on the nightstand. He was alone in the room. He always packed his own bags, despite the staffers being disappointed and feeling 'useless'. He could just pick up the damn thing, type Aphrodite's number and ask to meet her to talk things out.

Or better not. That would be seen as contemplation and he didn't want to lose that battle.

Nevertheless, he did pick it up. He looked over at the black screen for a few seconds before pressing the big button on the keyboard and looking at the time. His PA should have sent him that god-forsaken text message twenty minutes ago.

Perhaps the girl had got cold feet. Or she had gotten sick or something. And then his plan would be ruined. And Aphrodite would win.

He wouldn't let that happen.

His PA had agreed to introduce him to a girl he knew (a cousin or something), so that the Prince would spend the night somehow. The requirements were simple: she had to be pretty and prepared for everything. No strings attached or photographers around. He didn't have time for a new relationship or a scandal. Besides, it'd be more believable if Aphrodite would find out from Palace insiders. If she didn't believe the whispers and the gossip, then she'd surely ask his PA on his whereabouts.

Ares was confident that she would. Sooner or later.

As for that new girl, they'd meet at one of Athens' most expensive bars. The perfect place to make an impression.

He still had plenty of time to do whatever he wished with her. It was a little before midnight currently and his flight wouldn't leave until seven o'clock in the morning.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed. It was a text from his security team informing him that the motorcycle he had requested was ready. Ares grinned. He'd show up on his date like the Prince on a white stallion tonight. Except that, in that case, the stallion would be replaced with the most expensive Harley he owned - his pride and joy.

He could still recall how excited Aphrodite was in London to ride on a similar one and how disappointed she was on their date a few days ago when she saw that Honda.

 _Well, I'm sorry, Princess_ , he thought. _Save the fairy tale for later._

He was about to lock his phone again when another message arrived. It was his PA. Finally!

The girl was in the bar and she was waiting for him. They were all ready when he was.

Standing up at once, he put on his black leather jacket and some cologne before hitting the road. As he hastily passed along the corridors in the Private Quarters and descended the stairs that led to the back door, he felt a rush of adrenaline run over him. It was the thrill of the kill that came with each new great adventure.

He loved that feeling!

If Aphrodite thought that he'd cower in the corner and cry over her cruelty, she had another thing coming.

Besides, she had told him once, ages ago, that the jealousy trick always got him the girl in the end. He smirked. They had been lousy teenagers when she had given him that advice. Well, now they were older, wiser, and knew they had feelings for each other.

Still, they loved the complicated games they'd play. They wouldn't have it any other way.

They'd be bored as hell otherwise.

* * *

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

Here I am, lying on the sofa in my sitting room, fully dressed for my date, petting Blanche and watching _The Great Gatsby_ on DVD. It's the one with Robert Redford. Figured it'd take less time than reading the book, frankly.

My date will Anchises will start in about thirty minutes. I just got ready two hours in advance just to keep busy. OK, perhaps the movie wasn't a good idea after all. Just to think, I have to do the inhumanly possible and resist the urge to ask for some popcorn or to ruin my hair. But I guess messy curls will get you anywhere these days.

Anchises loves it when I wear my hair like that. As is befitting of a true gentleman, he will come and pick me up himself. When I told Mother, she simply nodded and said she'd have loved to stay but, sadly, she would be spending the night out as well. Remember those friends of hers that invited us over for Christmas? Turns out they're hosting a private party in her honour instead. She must be heading there right now as we speak and so poor Anchises won't get the chance to see her again.

Well, then. He's getting me instead. Think about it. Not only do I know him all too well inside and out, but we can also laugh at our inside jokes for hours on end.

My security team won't let me drive in his car though. I actually told them not to let me do it. One of my bodyguards will drive me to the bar we're heading to, and in his own private car no less. It's all part of the plan. The more I make it look like I have something to hide, the more curious people will get. I've learned that trick when I was still inexperienced and while the media frenzy around me was in its very early stages. Now that I'm basically a professional in the field, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to to enjoy this crazy ride, would it?

And just as I'm taking another sip of my hot chocolate, my mobile phone rings.

It's Astris.

I pick it up with a smile on my face.

"Hey there, Pussycat!" I tease.

"Hi! How are you holding up after the Christmas disaster?"

(Do I need to tell you that I've told her everything? I think not. You're smart enough to have figured it out by yourselves.)

"I am fine, I guess. How about you? How's the baby?"

"We both hate my swollen feet but that's the least of my problems," she laughs. "What I'm mostly worried about though, is you. The whole story with Anchises is just..."

Not that again... "I told you. It is just an innocent favour!"

Yes, I've told her about that plan of mine as well. But, as I have already mentioned, she's my most trusted confidante.

She also never hesitates to speak her mind. "That's what you also said about you-know-who and we all know how that turned out!"

Oh, so that's why she called then.

"You don't know Ares as well as I do," I protest.

I can picture her right now. She's lying on the couch in her lavish bedroom, her feet on a soft pillow. She's closing one of those magazines she is always reading and, sitting up, she tosses it aside and holds on to the receiver tighter. Worry is drawn all over her face and she stares blankly at the wall, imagining that I'm standing right across from her. Still, she does give me that look of pity mixed with sincere concern and worry - which she has inherited from Grandmother Tethys no less.

And there comes her small piece of advice: "Still. Wouldn't it be simpler if you could just talk things out with him?"

"Believe me, Astris, the only way that I can win him back is to make him see that I won't just sit around and wait for him to change his mind."

"The real question here though is, will he?"

"What do you mean?"

She sighs. "Honey, don't get me wrong but you two seem to think alike. What if he's playing the jealousy card as well? If you both get involved with other people at this point, you'll be growing apart all the more. Eventually, you will realize that you can't get back together because things just... turned out that way."

My hands start to tremble. Oh no, I know that reaction. I don't want to be angry, not to Astris... But I can't help it, I'm afraid...

"Easy for you to say. You dodged a bullet when you met Hydaspes. Your own love story was pretty straightforward."

"That's because our relationship was never complicated in the first place," she replies. "We were two random strangers who happened to meet when we needed each other the most. We agreed early on that we wouldn't keep any secrets from each other. I don't know if it's a good idea or not, but it works for us so far!"

Well, I... I guess I do envy my own cousin. When we were little, we used to spend hours planning our future wedding day together. We dreamed that we would get married on the same day, our gowns would be simple but dreamlike, we'd have the most handsome husbands (who had also better get along or else we wouldn't marry them), and we'd dance till early the next day surrounded by our friends and family. Oh, and our wedding cakes would have to be Grandma Tethys' chocolate pie. We would settle for nothing less!

Well, Astris seems to have ticked most of these boxes, if not all of them. Hydaspes adores her, he makes her laugh her heart out, and you can feel the spark between them when they're in the same room. It was love at first sight, I'm sure, and it only grows stronger with time. Here's the best part too: he didn't fall for her because of her career or her background. He fell in love with that girl called Astris, not Astris Heliades, the Hollywood actress who's also Oceanus Oceanides' granddaughter.

And then there's me, who can't even remember where she hid the list. I am as far from being the marrying kind as you can get but still, I adore weddings. In my head, and if Athena's scheme goes according to plan, I may get my own fairytale soon enough.

Hold on a second. How ironic is that? My worst enemy and Zeus Almighty's greatest and closest ally is turning the tables in my favour and here I am, thinking about my wedding when I don't even have a suitable husband-to-be. Hopefully, when that day shall rise, I'll have found my very own Mr. Right, whom I'll also be allowed to marry with as little scandal as possible. I don't really care whether he looks like Ares or Anchises or either of Thunder's bodyguards whom I happened to seduce out of sheer boredom and despair. All that I know is that he wouldn't have been forced upon me to rescue Zeus Almighty from bankruptcy. And he will also be no one else's choice but mine. Romantic as it may sound, he'll love, hold, and cherish me with all my ups and downs, the good and the bad sides of mine.

Yes, my status is also a major factor in this decision. And no, I won't have it any other way. You're welcome.

"Aphrodite? Can you hear me?"

Astris' voice brings me back to reality. I don't reply right away. I drop my head back in frustration and close my eyes for a second. That's when you know that realization hits me. "I've messed up, haven't I?"

Astris is now probably giving me one of those gentle little smiles of hers.

"Froufrou, you've dated a lot more guys than I have. It goes without saying that you know men far better than I would ever do. But please hear me out on this." She sighs again. "Don't make things with Anchises more complicated than they already are. It is a game to you and it has every right to be. The whole friends-with-benefits situation though doesn't seem to be working out well. What if he sees this whole thing as a sign for you to get back together?"

I have to admit, I have thought about that as well, ridiculous as it may seem. But it's impossible. We broke up because he couldn't stand the burden of dating me. He's not stupid enough to return to something that scared him so.

"I'm a big girl, Ma. I can tie my own shoes!"

Astris laughs. Then she gets serious again. "I just hate to see you crying, that's all. You should be careful about Athena too. I swear, this girl is far too smart for her own good. Honestly, why does she want to help you all of a sudden?"

"I don't know. No one could ever get anywhere with her."

She's about to add something but then the door opens. One of my bodyguards enters. Don't get excited just yet, it's not Spybo or whatever we're calling him now. He stands still by the door, waiting for me to finish the call so that he can tell me that the car is ready. He doesn't need to say a word though. I'm smart enough to have figured it out by myself. Hastily, I tell Astris that I have to hang up.

"All right," she replies. "See you at the tabloids!"

"Very funny, Missy!"

I'm trying my best to sound annoyed, but I just love that remark. Truth be told, it's one of the best farewells I've heard in a while. But it's Astris, so what do you expect? We both burst out laughing and two seconds later, after wishing each other a hasty goodbye, I throw the phone back inside my purse and ask the bodyguard to give me five more minutes so that Anna can find the sticky roller and get all of Blanche's hair out of me.

Here's a friendly piece of advice if you ever consider adopting a Samoyed: they shred. A lot. And everywhere. We have actually started to dress her in outfits made especially for dogs so that we can keep her shredding under control.

But that's just a minor detail. I'm very excited about what the night will bring. It's going to be a long one for sure. But that's precisely what makes me so eager to experience all that it has to offer!

* * *

 _Midnight_

 _East Drawing Room, Palace of Tatoi, Acharnai, Northern Attica_

Taking another sip of her wine, Hestia turned the page. The heavy album on her lap contained most of her childhood pictures - all of them in black and white. She found the irony amusing. She had often described her childhood thus. Right and wrong; ethical and unethical; royalty and commoners; privilege and poverty. A strict father and an absent mother. Five siblings, close in age, who were pretty much strangers to each other. Truth be told, they had gotten close only after Rhea had been brought back to the Palace with a six-year-old boy in tow. They had all been overcome with curiosity to find out who that little boy had been and why he had been clinging on to their mother's skirt like a frightened puppy. For the next few days, they had sneaked behind closed doors to catch a glimpse of him and they had been coming up with all sorts of ways to harm him. It had all been a sign of jealousy. They had viewed Zeus, that unknown boy whom everyone had kept calling their brother, as some sort of thief. He had fallen from the sky with the sole purpose of claiming their mother as his and his alone. But they had refused to share them. They had been enchanted by her beauty and sad emerald eyes, they had all yearned for her smell and the touch of her hand, that love and affection that she would show them in abundance. She had been the only one that could protect them from their father. She had been their mother and theirs alone. They had refused to share her.

Little had they known back then...

Over the years, they had ended up getting used to Zeus. Hestia and Demeter had been the first that had stopped seeing him as a threat and instead had helped him get used to his new life. Demeter also used to take him on long walks in the gardens of Tatoi and the Royal Palace, since she had figured out he had loved nature so. Hestia, on the other hand, used to help him with his homework. He had always told her about a place with plenty of rocks, white sun-kissed houses, and the wide open sea. She had simply smiled and nodded what a lovely place it had sounded like. Then he'd hit his foot on the floor and shout that that place was real. Many were the times when they had had to explain to him that Crete was an island far far away from Athens and why he had to live in two big houses that everyone had kept calling "Tatoi" and "The Royal Palace" when he had been trying to escape.

As for Hades and Poseidon, they had continued to keep their distance. Perhaps they had continued to feel threatened by him although they had no reason to feel that way. Hades had been the Crown Prince back then and Poseidon had been his heir. Under no circumstances would that new child - their baby brother - rise above them in status.

But Fate had different plans...

Eventually, Zeus had become the perfect little brother. Not only had he been an excellent student but he had also been the only one that would agree to be photographed with his sisters the most. There they were, on Lycabettus Hill on Easter Sunday in 1966, dressed in traditional Athenian costumes. Nineteen-year-old Hestia and seventeen-year-old Demeter were standing on either side of eleven-year-old Zeus, smiling at the camera and holding Zeus' hands. Hestia remembered that day. It had been one of the few outskirts they had made as a normal family.

She turned the page again. Zeus and Hades were practicing archery in that picture. But, on a goofy note, they were aiming at each other's faces. Looking back, it was an ironic prediction of what was to happen. Hades and Zeus may not be seeing eye to eye but the fact that their younger brother had dethroned the man that was to be the King had nothing to do with it. Hades had stepped aside willingly for the sake of his two brothers. It had seemed like the proper thing to do, since he had never loved or sought after attention. Besides, he had been the first of the siblings to show Zeus the respect he had deserved.

He had realized that their baby brother had been the only one that could stand up to Cronus and give him what he deserved. Poseidon had been a bit of a coward - too much talk and too little action. But Zeus was stubborn and kept his promises. He respected the institution of the Monarchy not the person who personified it. The country had felt the same way as well. Unlike Cronus, who had demanded respect due to tradition, deceit, and fear, Zeus had earned people's love on his own merit. So, they gave him the Throne. Some traditional monarchists had criticized him early on for not playing by the rules and doing more harm than good. But then again, Cronus had damaged his very own family.

He had once said in a speech in Parliament that "sacrifices ought to be made if survival is the goal and the aspiration." Hestia had agreed that it had been better to damage the Monarchy than themselves.

It would only manage to endure, survive, and prosper if it stopped hiding from change.

After all, you have to do everything you can in order to rescue the ship and everyone on it.

She turned the page again. She took a more careful look at the pictures. There is one with her and Demeter when they were toddlers, another one with Poseidon in his navy uniform when he was four, Hades at around the same age, Hestia and Hades together, Zeus on his own... There was also one family picture of the King and all of his children. Cronus was smiling, staring straight at the camera, holding Hades' hand. The King and the heir, with everyone else right behind. Three-year-old Poseidon was sitting right next to Hades, as the second in line, and Hestia and Demeter were right next to them but keeping their distance. Normally, their mother ought to be there as well, to hold her daughters' hands. But she had been erased from the picture. As if Cronus hadn't wanted her to be a member of the family. Hestia had the original picture in her personal archive in Corfu. She had placed it on top of a fireplace, the only place that looked suitable enough to accommodate such a family picture. Rhea must have been pregnant with Zeus back then, but Hestia could not be sure. Nevertheless, it did serve as a reminder to her.

Rhea had always been absent from their lives as they were growing up. Everyone, from the servants to the members of the Court, kept saying how the Queen was ill and 'indisposed'. Hestia and Demeter would always be told that their mother was "with child" and thus should be kept in confinement for their unborn sibling's sake. But Hestia could still vividly recall the night that Rhea had stood up to their father. She had never told her siblings that she had stood outside the closed door of her father's study in the Royal Palace, listening to him slapping his own wife and demanding that she obeyed him as she ought to. It was one of the reasons Hestia had never wanted a husband. She wouldn't like to have to go through a similar kind of cruelty.

Perhaps then it was for the best that their father was dying as slowly and painfully as he did. It'd be a good lesson and some sort of catharsis for them that justice has finally been served. She had confirmed that fact only a few hours ago, when she had convinced the royal doctor to tell her the truth about her father's condition. Despite his initial restraints, he had eventually been left with no other choice. At the end of the day, she was still the patient's daughter.

However, Hestia knew that the hardest part was yet to come. She had to tell her siblings. The King would have to be informed. Since Zeus' ascent, none of them cared for their father again. Poseidon had even said that he had better be kept in chains if he had to, as long as he was kept away from the rest of the family. The only occasions where they would see him or tolerate him again was during public family appearances, but that was done simply to keep speculations from arising about the true relationship between the former king and his children.

Hestia couldn't think of a harsher punishment than that. Surely, Cronus had been cruel but no one could beat violence with violence and neglect with neglect. She had shared her views with Zeus a few years ago and he had been trying his best to reestablish that lost connection between the rest of the family and Cronus ever since. But it was too late. Cronus kept shutting the door to his faces.

Perhaps it was his hatred towards Zeus that made him behave so. He had been happy, genuinely so, when Hestia had gone to his house a couple of days ago. She could see it in his eyes. But he had obviously decided not to seek treatment. So, she had nothing else to do but to accept his choice and wait. It was up to Zeus to decide what they would do with him and she wouldn't intervene. Perhaps her brother would prove decent and forgiving enough to agree to help his father in his final moments.

But then again, there was also Rhea. They ought to tread carefully when it came to her. Should she find out? Probably. Or maybe not. She had persisted that she had wanted nothing to do with him anymore. But how could she stay away when she was just a short distance away from the battlefield? No, they had to tell her the truth. It'd be better for her if she found out from her family rather than a staffer whose tongue may slip.

Hestia hoped that Amphitrite would eventually manage to convince her mother-in-law to move to Porto Heli with her and Poseidon. "She is getting too old and frail," she had told Hestia and Demeter last summer. "She needs her family with her. Porto Heli may not be an island, but at least it looks similar to Crete." Both sisters had agreed that it would have been for the best. Denmark was too far away and Corfu looked like a different country. Besides, Rhea had never really grown fond of Mon Repos either.

But Amphitrite and Poseidon shouldn't be the first to be told the news. Propriety and protocol demanded that Zeus ought to have that honour. After all, his own reign is very strongly dependent upon it. Still, Hestia couldn't wait that long. She felt like she was carrying a heavy burden and she needed someone to help her carry it sooner rather than later.

Hades. He was strong enough for that. He'd know how to break the news to everyone else. It was always so much easier to for him to talk about death...

She'd visit him first thing in the morning. It'd be simpler for them to talk things through in private and without any other relative popping up unexpectedly. Plus they'll have plenty of time to arrange how they'll inform the rest.

Yes, that was the best course of action. And they had better be done with it as soon as possible.

* * *

 _27 December 2006_

 _00:10 A.M._

 _Ekali, Northern suburbs of Athens_

The young woman by the bar ordered a second glass of prosecco. It wasn't the strongest drink in the menu, but still it helped calm her nerves. Her cousin's text messages had been as confusing as they had been thrilling. He had set her up for a blind date with someone rich and famous. She had no idea who it might be. But the orders were clear: no strings attached.

She rather liked that. As a matter of fact, it had been quite a long while since she had done anything so daring. To be fair, she'd be happy if the evening developed into a one-night-stand. From what her cousin had implied once, that's what his boss had wanted as well. She had promised to him that he wouldn't ask any questions but, nevertheless, she was still curious to find out who that stranger might be. Try as she might to get him reveal his identity or, at least, his profession, however, he wouldn't say a thing.

Perhaps he was the son of a government official, then. They never showed up in the gossip columns except for the times they caused trouble. Why else would she have to show up in an awfully expensive yet largely empty bar in the centre of Athens? The guy obviously wanted to be seen leaving with her. But whatever for?

She'd just wait and see. It's not like she had another choice.

She had followed her cousin's advice down to a T. She had worn the most expensive red dress she could afford (men loved that colour on women after all), donned her best jewelry, and put on the most seductive perfume she owned. She felt a little like a doll on a shopping window, but she had to do his favour. From what he had agreed to reveal, it depended on her whether he would keep his highly-paid job which he had fought so hard for or not.

From the little she knew, her friend was working as a PA for someone powerful and his boss was a difficult man to work with. When she had jokingly asked if she had been set up with his boss, he had laughed and denied it immediately. "My boss is married," he had said. "You wouldn't want to get in trouble with his wife."

She grinned. _Wouldn't be the first time._

Ordering another refill, she looked at her watch again.

It was already a little after midnight. Her mystery date was ten minutes late. Maybe he regretted it in the last moment or he was stuck in traffic. But neither argument was legible. Her friend would have texted her if the guy had suddenly gotten cold feet and the streets weren't that packed. The citizens of Athens were spending the day at their homes, in nightclubs, or were out of town altogether at this time and day. It made for deserted boulevards which, in return, made for some joyful driving.

To keep busy, she looked at her mobile phone again. She found the text, making sure that she had indeed come to the right place. How funny would it be if the handsome stranger was waiting for her at another place! Scanning them, she read the familiar words again: "don't be late", "impatient", "VIP" and all that jazz. Then she confirmed it. She was at the right place all along.

Well, that stranger was playing tough with her then. But she didn't care if he had suddenly gotten cold feet. Good for her, she had enough money to pay for her drink.

Suddenly, she felt a heavy hand brush her shoulder. Startled, she turned to look at the handsome stranger in the gray three-piece suit and the red tie. He had very short hair, like those of a shoulder, and had obviously not shaved for a week or two. He looked tough, muscular, and definitely someone who promised a night to remember.

Just her kind of man.

"You must be Eos."

He sounded familiar. She had definitely heard his voice before. And seen his face.

Could it be?

Prince Ares was sitting right next to her, smiling at her and asking her what she was having. He was every woman's dream that'd never come true. Yet here he was.

And she'd sleep with him.

She felt like the luckiest woman in the world.

Yet, he scared her. She knew that he was way out of her league and the last thing she'd like would be for her to become known nation-wide as his new girlfriend. But then again... Why not?

Coming back to reality, she got up and made an awkward curtsy, giving him the most promising smile she could muster. "Indeed I am!"

"Good!" he smirked. He ran his eyes all over her, as if trying to imagine what she'd look like in the dark. It sent shivers down her spine. Her heart was beating wildly but still, somehow, she managed to fix her posture and cross her legs in the most seductive yet decent way possible.

He was staring at her the whole time. She thought her heart might burst from joy and anticipation.

Ares was keeping his distance. She hated that. But she had to be patient and to follow his lead. It was all part of the seduction game perhaps.

He looked into her brown eyes. Well, he couldn't say he was disappointed. His PA did know just the kind of woman he needed to spend the night with. Someone that looked absolutely nothing like Aphrodite. Eos had long brown hair and brown eyes. A typical Greek woman.

Splendid!

Raising up his hand, he ordered two glasses of gin and tonic. One for each. When Eos tried to protest, playing the decent damsel in distress (a trick that always worked, she had come to find), Ares brought his fingers to her lips to keep her quiet.

Leaning forward, Ares whispered in her ear: "No offense, sweetheart. But you do look like you need a stronger drink than that."

She grinned. "You have no idea."

He looked at Eos again. "So," he said. "What does your name stand for again?"

"Dawn," she replied confidently. "I've always liked it. It symbolizes new beginnings, I think."

Ares couldn't agree more. But it was too late for him to back down now. He had a wonderful woman by his side and he was about to enjoy a good drink. He couldn't care less about Aphrodite. As far as he was concerned, she didn't either.

How ironic. Yet how awfully pathetic.

But what was done was done.

Time to move on.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: IMPORTANT: I am changing the rating of the story to M because of suggestive/sensitive themes. I know I should've done it ages ago but better late than never...** **Also, I have made a companion Tumblr blog for my story :) I'll be posting about Greece, royalty (tiaras included :P), Greek mythology/culture and visuals for the story, so if you're interested, my blog's called: the-scarlet-crown . **

**On a "cultural" note, Cape Matapas is where the supposed Gates to Hell (read: Underworld) were, according to the ancient Greeks. So, I imagine it's only fitting that Hades would turn that into his permanent home address :P As for Helena Paparizou, she is a famous pop/rock Swedish-Greek singer (who also won the Eurovision Song Contest in 2005). Her songs mentioned here are all in English.**

* * *

 _27 December 2006_

 _4:30 A.M._

 _Palace of Tatoi, Acharnai, Northern Attica_

 _Everything was a blur._

 _The room was filled with smoke. He laid his empty glass on the counter and took another puff of his cigar. A burning sensation ran down his throat and his mouth tasted bitter. But he didn't care._

 _He refilled his glass._

 _Nickelback's_ How You Remind Me _was playing on full blast. It was worsening his headache. Yet he needed to hear it. Again. And again..._

 _Funny... He used to think that song was mere nonsense. Only stupid men get fooled and then blame themselves for it._

 _Now every lyric, every goddamned word reminded him of... her._

 _That accursed seductress._

 _The woman he had been trying to forget._

 _He could still see her face everywhere he looked. She had that confident, mocking grin on her face. He wanted to destroy everything, to scare her away._

 _But she'd go on hunting him. Even now, he could feel her presence. Right here, in this very room..._

 _He had brought her to his favourite bar a few days ago. She had been sitting on the stool he was occupying now. They had played their little game of hide and seek, of the hunter and the victim, despite their exhaustion. She had made him believe he had had the upper hand. And he had been stupid enough to believe her._

Are we having fun yet?

 _He smelled of another woman. A couple of hours ago, he had been lying on her bed, holding her in his arms, and feeling her lips on his skin. She had fallen asleep in his arms and he had held her close, congratulating himself for winning yet another battle._

 _Until his phone had rung. Someone had sent him a picture. It was her... kissing a familiar-looking man._

 _The bartender suddenly showed up. He was still dressed in a band T-shirt and torn jeans. But he stank of sweat. Without warning, he filled the empty glass with water and threw it his customer's face. Ares closed his eyes and leaned back._

 _He enjoyed the cool sensation. He felt free; clean; liberated..._

 _Suddenly, out of nowhere, he heard a woman's voice._

"Wake up! It's four thirty!"

Furiously, Athena set the empty glass on the bedside table. She knew that Ares was a heavy sleeper but was obviously still too drunk to comprehend what was going on around him. Throwing water at his face had been the most desperate measure she could think of. She had already turned on all the lights and opened all of the windows, hoping that the brightness and the cold winter air would work their magic. But seeing him as he lay flat on the bed made her doubt it.

She was certain for one thing, though. She would catch a bad cold for his sake, since she had just come back from her thirty-minute run in the forest.

But she couldn't care less about his own health. For one thing, he had brought it to himself.

Still, she couldn't let him be, tempting as that thought was. The rest of her relatives were still asleep and she wouldn't allow the staff to see the Prince in such a state.

Knowing him, however, it wouldn't be the first time they would have to face such a sight. Or the last.

At least she was decent enough to care about him a little. But, apparently, the feeling wasn't mutual.

"Fuck off!" Ares groaned, burying his face in the pillow.

"Good morning to you too!"

As a matter of fact, the situation was so ridiculous that it was actually amusing. She was facing his bare back and he went on snoring as if nothing was the matter. Truth be told, his tattoos seemed to be paying her more attention. She couldn't understand why he had decided to have a vulture with spread wings drawn all over his shoulder blade with the word _REVOLUTION_ written underneath it in English and with Gothic letters.

But she could see the connection with his current situation. Unless he rebelled against his sleep soon enough, the vultures would come after him.

And she'd be leading the pack.

She tapped on his shoulder continuously, determined to annoy him. "Now get up! You must go back to the base before you are classified as AWOL!"

"What base?"

His face was still buried in the pillow. Athena rolled her eyes. "There's a town in Northern Greece called Alexandroupoli. Does that name ring a bell?"

It did. As if she had pronounced the magic word, Ares finally lifted his head and crawled to the side of the bed, holding on to the nightstand for support. Just as Athena had predicted, he was still hungover.

And things were about to get worse.

Before he could even complete his attempt to get off the bed, he vomited.

Right by her feet.

But she was fast enough and didn't get dirty. Yet the poor century-old carpet was ruined. She'd have to take care of that later.

Masking her disgust at the awful smell and her half-brother's incivility, she folded her arms and watched as he was trying to best to just... give up again.

 _My, men are such babies!_ she thought. For one thing, Ares had come all the way up here because he had wanted to avoid his parents. That's what he always did. Earlier, as she had been coming back from her regular morning run eager for a shower, one of the guards had greeted her and told her that the Prince had spent the night at Tatoi. His motorcycle was still parked outside the side entrance because he would have a fit every time one of the guards would park it in the garage, along with the other vehicles. He always liked to find his things, big or small, right where he had left them.

When they were little, he used to let his toy soldiers and cars right by her slippers, so that she'd step on them first thing when she woke up.

But time was running out. Despite having diplomatic immunity, he could still face trial on the court martial. The King had ensured that Ares would be treated like any other soldier as soon as he had started his military career. It had been a way to present that the Royal Family had to obey the law like any other Greek citizen (as if...) and having him classified as AWOL would not reflect well on them.

Or the Hellenic Royal Army.

Not to mention that her father would get so furious that he'd start throwing things at the wall again, not caring about their historical value.

Ares was snoring again. Wasn't it for the sake of cultural inheritance and good reputation, she wouldn't mind leaving him alone to face the consequences of his actions.

For one thing, he deserved it.

In a final attempt to put some sense into him, she stood up and spoke louder. "Listen! You know how the army works! Now, unless you want to get us all into trouble-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he groaned again and tried to get up. "Stop yapping!"

Much to her astonishment, Ares was sober enough to stand up and not step on the dirty spot. She kept staring at him as he was making his way to the adjacent bathroom and buried his face in his hands, as if his head was too heavy for him. Athena crossed her arms and stared down, frowning. Had she not known any better, she'd think that it was one of Prince Poseidon's ugly practical jokes. He had quite the reputation for them...

Ares rinsed his mouth and washed his face. He could feel Athena's eyes on him, obeying him like he was some sort of statue. Water still pouring from his face, he added sarcastically: "I can wash by myself, you know!"

She didn't move an inch. "Your things have been sent over," she replied. Her voice was so stern, it would make even Hera stop on her tracks. "You have ten minutes to get ready. Or else!"

Furious and eager to be left alone at last, he slammed the door. "Bitch!"

"I heard that!" she shouted. "And don't forget to shave!"

"I know!"

Almost immediately, he heard the door to his room open and close. He let out a long sigh.

That girl was a goddamned pain in the ass!

He jumped into the bathtub, eager for an icy cold shower. He was exhausted. All he needed right now was a strong cup of coffee and an aspirin. Most importantly, he needed to get rid of Eos' perfume.

He still stank of it.

And everything was still a fucking blur.

* * *

 _5:00 A.M._

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

I hate my life and all the choices I've ever made. In no particular order.

But guess what! After months of endless and pointless searching, speculation, and self-doubt, I finally found it!

My bloody email password!

True to form, I hid it so well that I forgot it even existed. It was scribbled inside a blue notebook which, in turn, was kept locked at the top drawer of my desk and whose keys are in the small kitchenette. They do say that desperate times call for desperate measures and so I asked Anna to get it for me. Believe it or not, she's the only person in here that knows where everything is and she also never, ever complains about being woken up in the middle of the night. Anyway, long story short, this notebook is the most precious thing I own right now.

Oh gosh I'm so not a morning person...

What I mean is that without it, I wouldn't be able to set my plan in motion.

(I asked Anna to retire afterwards and I haven't had any hot chocolate to help me wake up yet, so please bear with me.)

Yes, you do have questions. Naturally. I shall try and answer them, then. So, let's take it from the beginning. Anchises' father is a Greek businessman living in Turkey who, for some reason, decided to expand his activities in Greece two years ago. I want to blame that decision on his son dating me but it'd be rather superficial of me to do so. Long story short, he now owns a magazine called... well... _Gossip_. He's also a monarchist, or so he claims. Truth be told, I think that Zeus Almighty disapproved of my ex because his parents have a Turkish passport instead of a Greek one.

This whole diplomatic and cultural relationship between Greece and Turkey is a story for another time because it's damn complicated and it will take me ages to explain to you.

Plus, Anchises is... rather stupid. If he wasn't, he wouldn't have been so easily fooled by my scheme. Wait... I think I've said that already.

Whatever. I'm mad at him right now because he's the reason I'm awake. Yes, I know, this has all been my idea. I'm actually pretty mad at myself too but I can't hate me for more than two minutes.

I am my own best friend after all.

Simply put, Anchises is supposed to send me the article that will be published in tomorrow's edition of _Gossip_ and which will accompany the pictures of us two love birds leaving the bar together. I gave him the undeniable liberty to choose the pictures he liked best but now It's not every day that I get to have an actual say in what is written about me either. So, I guess I should just enjoy it while it lasts.

Thinking about it, I should have asked to see the pictures too... But surely they won't be that bad? They would definitely be better than the ones taken during my outing with the 'usual suspects' two months ago. As a matter of fact, I haven't even talked to them for nearly that long and they don't care to ask me either. Well, then. Less of a headache for me then.

And don't you dare get me started on that lost dress again...

The password is the correct one, by the way. I'm currently in my inbox (for lack of a better way of putting it) and I have... thirty unread emails. Half of them are too old for me to care about them anymore and the other half are from Astris. She has sent me the photos they took during Christmas as 'zipped files' (whatever that means) with instructions on how to 'unzip' them and get to the pictures.

I'll do it once the sun is up. I may also have to call Pelops for help. My half-brother is far more an expert in technology than I would ever dare be and I am pretty sure that he's the one that told Astris to 'zip' the photos just to make my life a lot more difficult than it already was. If he refuses to help, I can always trust my Private Assistant or Press Secretary. They deal with computers a lot more than I do so they must know something I don't.

Suddenly, a notification shows up that I've got mail. Well, won't you look at that? It's the one I've been waiting for! Gosh, I missed being mischievous!

Oh um... The article is in Greek (duh...) so I will have to translate as I read.

So, let us cut to the chase:

" _EXCLUSIVE - CROWN PRINCESS BACK IN THE GAME: After spending more than a year as a single woman, Crown Princess Aphrodite seems to have found love again in the arms of a charming old friend. The pictures, taken last night outside a lavish night club in the Northern suburbs of Athens by a passer-by, show the 26-year-old smiling wide to her new beau, whose identity remains unknown. 2006 has been all work and no play for our favourite royal and fashion icon, who spent almost six months touring Europe, the U.S.A., and Greece. As a source close to her had revealed to our magazine ahead of Her Royal Highness's visit to Berlin in August, the tour had been a nice change of scenery for the dashing CP, whose personal life had been through a rocky patch in 2005. It is rumoured that she had been very much in love with a successful young British-born Swedish financier, whom the King strongly disapproved of. Even though close friends of hers claim that this wasn't the case, it is believed that His Majesty had encouraged her to seek love elsewhere. Looks like she followed her father's advice and is now head over heels in love with a handsome dark-haired Greek. Although the identity of her new Prince Charming still remains a secret, we can rest assured that he already makes our future queen very, very happy. Looks like 2007 is off to a good start for her!_

 _Check out the Crown Princess's best style moments on page 24."_

It's nice, isn't it? Short, simple, sweet, and gets the message across. Plus it makes me look like I'm the dutiful daughter the whole world believes me to be. It's also rather sassy and you don't want to take it seriously but you do. Anchises says there will be a follow up or two of us two as we exit the bar and I put my arms around his neck.

Yup. Splendid!

Just keep it away from Zeus Almighty until I'm sober enough to face him.

I text Anchises to let him know that the article is good and it's ready to be published. Speaking of, I don't know why it's so much easier for me to use my phone rather than the computer... I'm old-school like that I suppose.

But I'm also too tired to wait for his reply. And before I forget: no, nothing happened between us. After the photos were taken, one of my bodyguards drove me back to the hotel, as we had arranged would happen.

Now, if you'd excuse me, I need to catch up on some sleep before Mother joins me for breakfast. On another note, she has moved to a suite on the same floor as me, so that it's easier for her to come and go without using the fire escape. I'm pretty sure that Thunder would've made sure that we are the only residents on the fifth floor would've been her and me but it would raise suspicion. Besides, I'm pretty sure that the guests who keep coming back to the hotel have realized by now that this is... my favourite spot in the whole of Athens!

That sounded rather odd... Anyway, I'll tell you more once I'm awake. Blanche is sleeping on her cushion, Anna is also resting until she gets back to work... And I'm too tired and befuddled to keep on talking.

So, night night!

* * *

 _8:30 A.M._

 _Dining Room, Palace of Tatoi, Acharnai, Northern Attica_

Nearly every single member of the Royal Family had gathered in the dining room. Only Princess Athena was missing. She was still sleeping upstairs, much to her relatives' surprise, for she was usually the first person among them to wake up. But they all quickly forgot about her absence and cared more about indulging themselves to a good meal instead.

An hour ago, the butlers and the maitre d's had set the buffet. The Royal Family had a wide variety of foods to choose from: boiled eggs, hot butter and chocolate croissants, five different kinds of cereal, three different kinds of jam, and an oranges and vanilla cake. Queen Rhea, who, due to her status as former queen, was left in charge as the hostess, had asked the chefs to abstain from meat but persisted on eggs being served because "they were good for the grandchildren."

The table was set almost as elaborately. Each person had their own cup and glass, depending on whether they wanted to have coffee, tea, hot chocolate, or orange juice. Yet, contrary to their other meals, they limited themselves to only one set of cutlery during breakfast. That was actually the common decision of Princesses Amphitrite and Hestia. Used to a more spartan lifestyle, they had believed that using more than one set for such an informal occasion was too superficial. After all, they showed up for breakfast in their slippers for heaven's sake!

Most staffers agreed. Truth be told, they would rather serve them than the King and the Queen. Tatoi felt more like a big house than a Palace when Their Majesties were away and their relatives were staying there as guests instead. Prince Poseidon would talk with the butlers about sports, his wife would ask them how they were doing, and Princess Hestia always loved to hear them talk about their families. As for Queen Rhea, she let them to enjoy a more relaxed timetable. The way she ran the household was the total opposite of how Queen Hera wanted everything to work. It all had to run like clockwork, with military precision. If the staffers made even the tiniest mistake, they risked losing their jobs.

But undoubtedly, the best part about serving that branch of the family was the fact that they didn't seem to mind the staff. The dining room was connected with the kitchens via a tunnel and so the door had to remain open at all times, in order for the butlers to enter and refill their bosses' cups and glasses. Everyone (especially the Prince) would continue their conversation, as if the staff wasn't even there. Much as the butlers could keep a secret, they couldn't help feeling curious about what the Royal Family would discuss at breakfast each morning.

Today's topic certainly did not disappoint. They were talking about Prince Ares and his sudden decision to spend the night in Tatoi instead of the Royal Palace. He had left almost four hours ago, when all his other relatives had been sound asleep, and so his family had safely turned him into the talk of the town.

"The guard that saw him said that he was driving while drunk," Princess Hestia said. "If only Zeus and Hera had paid a little bit more attention to him as he was growing up...!"

As always, Prince Poseidon rushed to prove his sister wrong. "Ares' problem is that he's too restless for his parents' taste. Anyway, he's back in the base now. We can be sure that he'll stay out of trouble for a little while."

The butlers were certain that Princess Hestia was ready to say something but she instantly changed her mind. "So that's how it goes. Once the new year comes, each one of us will be getting back to where we belong... Until Easter comes. And then summertime..."

Prince Poseidon, was fully dressed in a suit, as always, began to fiddle with the pockets of his jacket. He was looking for his packet of cigarettes, but he wouldn't smoke in here. He never did so in front of his mother and children.

"I thought you are going back to Corfu in February!" he told his sister.

"I am! But still. Each of us lives in different parts of Greece!"

One butler refilled His Highness's cup. Undeterred by his presence, though, the Prince added, "This is the case with so many other families in this country as well. Somehow, my brother made sure that we end up resembling them after all."

Neither the butlers nor his relatives were shocked to hear that. Everyone knew how much he resented the King and made sure to find faults in everything he did. Perhaps the Prince would have made a good king as well. But it was also certain as the sun that his wife would not be happy acting as queen by his side. She'd probably end up like a carbon copy of Queen Rhea - forever in the shadows. A pretty doll to always be seen, not heard.

On such a note, she did look rather out of sorts today. She didn't notice the staffer and neither did she let him fill her cup. The butler would love to stay for a while longer and figure out the reason, yet he knew he ought to be getting back. He and his colleague had done their rounds. If they stayed for a while longer, then the Royal Family might suspect they were spying on them. And that was against the palace staff's code of ethics.

Once those two strange guys in the dark suits, white shirts, royal blue ties and white gloves were out of the room, Rhode and Triton took their seats at the table, between their mother and their grandmother. They loved the food there. It was so much better than the one they would eat at their own home...!

But their father seemed to have a different opinion. "You are not going to eat all those croissants, Rhode."

"Yes I am!" she protested. "Not all of them are for me! Some are for the horses, We are going horse riding today, aren't we, Father? You promised!"

Triton couldn't believe his ears. He knew his sister was not the smartest girl in the world but he wasn't expecting her to be that clueless.

"Horses eat apples and hay, stupid!" he said.

Rhode wouldn't stand to be bossed around by her brother. "How do you know?"

"I've seen them do it!"

She opened her mouth to protest but their mother hit her hands on the table. "Just stop it, all of you!"

Suddenly, all eyes were on her. Poseidon gave her a worried look and tried to hold her hand but she pushed it back and kept staring down at her empty plate. Closing her eyes, she clenched her fists on on the table. She always did that when her migraines returned.

Before anyone could ask her if she was alright, she jumped up like a lightning bolt and, without excusing herself, she left the room. Everyone was dumbfounded, especially her husband. She had never had that kind of outrage before.

Rhode turned to her grandmother. "H-have I done something wrong? Is Mommy alright?"

Rhea run her fingers through her granddaughter's hair. "She will be fine, dear."

"Your mother didn't get much sleep last night, that's all," Poseidon replied, getting his cigarettes out of his pockets much to Rhea's and Hestia's disapproving looks. "She got up in the middle of the night and hasn't slept for more than a couple of hours. Now, eat your breakfast."

He didn't feel like eating, but he had to. Or else his children would realize that their mother was indeed sick and they would bombard him with questions. Just as he took a bite of that vanilla cake, however, his mother set down her cup.

"She ought to be careful in her condition. She's not as young as she used to be anymore."

Poseidon and Hestia decided to let it slip. Triton and Rhode, however, were old enough to know what that phrase usually meant. "Wh-what condition?" he asked. "Is she pregnant?"

"Will I have a little sister?" Rhode added happily.

"Nonsense!" their father replied. "She just needs some rest. We should not disturb her. Is that clear?"

His children sat up. "Clear!" they said simultaneously.

"Good. Now, where were we?"

Before they knew it, the sound of cutlery against the china dishes filled the room again and everyone sank back into their own little world. The butlers continued to do their regular rounds and the Royal Family went on talking about various topics - from the weather to their outfits at the New Year's Eve gala. Rhode was particularly eager to describe her own dress to them, which she had picked out with her grandmother's help. Respecting Poseidon's wishes, though, they didn't mention Amphitrite.

Yet he kept thinking of his mother's words. His wife couldn't have been with child. She was forty-one years old for heaven's sake! Besides, she had told him years ago that two children had been more than enough and they had been taking the necessary measures to avoid a third pregnancy. So no, that was not the case.

He tried to remember what had happened the night before. He could recall that he had heard her getting up and she had reassured him that she would be going for a small stroll around the Palace in case she got sleepy again. It's what she always did when she had trouble sleeping. But then again... The last time she had suffered from insomnia, something bad had happened. So, could it have been her family in Naxos?

If so, he'd make the necessary arrangement so that she'd go to find them. But for now, all he had to do was wait.

She had to get some much-needed rest first.

* * *

 _9:10 A.M._

 _Dining Room, Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

Mother grabs a piece of toast from the silver platter and begins to spread butter and strawberry jam all over it. She holds the knife so tightly that I can actually listen to it as it scratches the bread. Once she is done, she takes another piece and proceeds to do the same.

Oh, boy. She didn't take it well.

It's all my fault. For some odd reason, I thought that the best time for me to tell her about Athena's plan was... during breakfast. To make matters worse, I even had the audacity to tell her that I, her beloved daughter, had the nerve to agree to work with her.

Alright. Bring it on. I can see my downfall coming.

Just for the record, please remember this: Mother is far worse than Thunder when she gets furious. There is actually a reason why. Zeus Almighty can't conceal his anger. He starts throwing things against the wall, calls his wife names (of all people...), and then drinks and smokes himself straight to the nearest heart attack. But Mother is a typical old-fashioned European upper-class lady. She never, ever lets her frustration show and she is never overcome with wrath. When she can't keep it in any longer, she just... spreads butter on toast, fiddles with her clothes, rearranges the books in her bookshelf, or she turns on the laptop so that she can type something. Anything. Tantalus hates it when she does any of that and so he starts to shout instead. I guess that's why both of Mother's husbands are so intemperate, then. She had to find a way to balance somehow.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. Athena. My darling sister...

So, first off, I have no idea what Mother thinks of her. I think she likes her, which is odd considering that, well... she divorced Thunder because he had a baby with his mistress... But that's just details. Now the big question is, what is she going to do with two pieces of toast? She never has more than one during breakfast!

Oh, yeah. I forgot. The second one is the 'calm down already' toast. It's meant to suffer in the cold and abandonment until someone takes pity in it and eats it.

Not Blanche. She's not allowed to eat this kind of stuff. Vet's orders.

But I guess there is only one way for Mother to calm down. And that is for me to speak up. So, I set my cup of hot chocolate aside, take a deep breath, and here we go.

"I've thought about it! It's the only way we can get me out of this engagement. A-and besides, think about it! We'll get to keep the fifty million!"

Mother takes a bite at the first toast. As she chews, she stares blankly at the wall. When she's done, she replies: "It's not about the money."

Oh boy. She's angrier than I thought. I take another sip at my hot chocolate, thinking that perhaps it would have been better if I just kept quiet all along.

Mother lets her toast drop to the plate and takes a sip of her coffee. Then she turns to look at me. "I would rather we do not overcomplicate matters, dear," she says. "The situation is very much a labyrinth as it is. Your father is seriously considering to accept our offer. We give _him_ what he wants in return for what _we_ wish for. It's how transactions work!"

"I know that."

But she doesn't seem to believe me. Letting out a sigh, she asks, "Did you believe Athena when she said that she and the King had had a fight?"

I shrug my shoulders. "She didn't give me any reason not to."

Mother shakes her head. (Beware when she does this. It can mean anything.) "Athena is very clever. It just seems odd... Why would she want to sabotage her father all of a sudden?"

"I don't know. But she did sound like she wanted to get back at him for some reason."

No, I can't even begin to imagine what that reason might be. I never cared to ask. Besides, my half-sister is pretty odd, so I would suggest, for the sake of your sanity, that you do not interact with her much. She can drive you crazy with her "Mrs. Know-It-All" attitude.

Mother nods. "I see. Well, now you have given your word and you cannot undo it." She pauses for a moment and stares blankly at the wall opposite. That's how you know she's thinking. "We might end up needing her on our side if it will convince Zeus to accept the offer after all."

Wait what?

"But this whole thing is about-"

She raises her hand to motion for me to keep quiet. "Your uncle, Aias, has already begun the necessary proceedings to acquire the fifty million. His job seems to be moving forward, if ever so slowly, but you and I still have quite the way to go. All we have to do is not to annoy Zeus in any way."

I set my cup aside. "So, I guess I'll have to play the perfect daughter and do as I'm told..."

Easier said than done, as you may have guessed...

But Mother is adamant that this is the only way. "Your father hates being double-crossed. I am pretty certain that he is currently angry with Athena as well." Ha! Tell me about it. "However," she adds, "until I receive his final answer and for a little while after I have done, you will have to be the perfect Crown Princess in his eyes. No night outings, no revealing outfits, and certainly..." Slowly and menacingly, she pulls out a copy of _Gossip_ from underneath the pile with all the morning newspapers. Where's a drum roll when you need it? "No more covers like these."

She hands it to me. Yup. Just as I had predicted. That photo of Anchises and me leaving the bar is all over the cover. But! I can explain!

"No, that was-"

"I know what it was about." The tone in her voice leaves no room for self-defense. "Do bear in mind, though, that your father will see it. And you know what he thinks of Anchises."

Well, Your Honour, I think that's it. We're done here. Mother gets back to her breakfast and I am trying to use her trick and conceal my anger. Since the toast trick has already been tried out, I try the next best thing.

I start taking sips of my chocolate again. One right after the other. I don't know if it helps to calm me down but it sure as heck does wonders for my mood. That's all down to the magical works of cocoa beans and I should stop before I start talking like one of those narrators in _National Geographic_.

Since Mother seems to have calmed down, though, she tries the next best thing: she talks. And she comes up with ideas.

I have to give it to her, she's far better at multitasking than I can ever hope I'll be.

"I will let your uncle know about Athena's involvement. He might be able to come up with an alternative that also involves her or he can also speak with her directly."

Nope, I won't ask questions. I'd better stay out of it. Dione Oceanides' orders. Still, though, there must be something, perhaps a tiny weeny bit, that I can do? I mean, not to fret, but my own personal life and happiness are at stake here.

"Is there anything I can do?" I ask.

But Mother sticks to her ideas yet again. "Nothing, for the time being. We'll just wait and see. New Year's Eve is but four days away!"

This is supposed to be the happy conclusion in all of it, even though it doesn't sound like it. It sounds more like an eternity to me...

I'm not expecting you to empathize with me on this one, but please do. It'll make my life so much easier...

* * *

 _9:30 A.M._

 _Palace of Tatoi, Acharnai, Northern Attica_

Rhea let out a long sigh. Putting her hands in the pockets of her coat, she climbed down the long staircase that led from the front yard of the Palace to the swimming pool. She had asked her son to meet her there, away from Hestia's watchful eye and Rhode's adorable - yet exhausting - curiosity. The pool was connected with the rest of the estate (the forest and the farm) via another, slightly smaller staircase of the same design.

She couldn't wait to see Zeus climb up those stairs and come to her. Proud as she was to see him as a king, deep down she couldn't help missing her little boy. Besides, it would also do him some good to escape the hustle and bustle of Athens for a little while.

Perhaps she, too, needed someone else to lean on. She was still worried about Amphitrite. She had remained upstairs since breakfast. Poseidon had persisted that his wife had simply fallen asleep and it wouldn't have been nice to wake her up. Nevertheless, Rhea still cared about her beloved daughter-in-law.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of a jeep approaching. Before she knew it, Zeus hurriedly climbed up the stairs and approached her. She smiled. He was dressed like any other man in the countryside would - just a simple pair of jeans, a cotton shirt, a pullover, and a jacket that was just suitable for this kind of weather. (In all truthfulness, she was rather disappointed that he had not prompted for a thicker overcoat. She wouldn't want for him to catch a cold all of a sudden. He was already working himself out.)

Zeus approached her with open arms and she chuckled in response. "Mother!" he said, kissing the back of her right hand, as protocol declared, and then her cheek. "I'm so sorry I couldn't pay you a visit earlier. In fact, I have no better excuse other than what a strenuous affair it is to reign."

She cupped his cheek. "You look tired. You are getting enough sleep, I hope." He gave her a reassuring smile which did not do much to calm her. Nodding, she added, "Shall we?"

Zeus stretched out his arm for her and she took it, thanking him. Climbing down the stairs, they reached the forest and began their stroll. She loved that particular part of the estate - the point where the Palace connects with the wider estate. Since her arrival, she would spend hours in there on a daily basis, wandering aimlessly among the trees. Just her and her thoughts...

She held on to her son's strong arm tighter. Zeus thought that his mother wanted to hold on to him and he tenderly touched her wrinkled hand so that she can be steadier. Since she was smaller and slower than him, he had to go at a lower pace as well. Normally, it would annoy him. But he was willing to make an exception for Rhea's sake.

As a matter of fact, he, too, had missed the tranquility of this place. The last time he had come over there, the place had been filled with people and therefore he could not enjoy the scenery as much as he should have done.

"Perhaps you should consider coming here more often," Rhea said, as if she could read his thoughts. "Even for just a stroll. I think it would do you good. Nature does have its unique way of calming us down, don't you think?"

She had always believed so. After she had moved to Crete, she had begun to plant her own vegetables in her garden so that she would have something to look forward to. Other queens of her generation might have been terrified to get their hands dirty but she did not care. By tending to her miniature farm, she managed to leave the past behind her. But Tatoi was different. It was very much a small-scale industrial unit; her garden was her own creation.

But Zeus couldn't hold it back anymore. He had come to Rhea to ask for her advice and counsel. She was the only person in the family, other than Athena, who knew the whole story.

"I want to find a way to get us all out of this messed up situation with Hephaestus as soon as possible." In fact, he had wanted to use a stronger adjective, but he could not bring himself to use profanity in front of his mother. "Dione has made me an offer I cannot refuse and Athena went livid when she found out. She thinks we might end up being marionettes for the Oceanides family."

Rhea had guessed that her son had come all the way here to talk to her about that. Hesitantly, she replied, "Aren't we?"

Zeus sighed in contempt. To calm him down, Rhea held on to his arm tighter, making him lean towards her a little. "The Petalas family have far less wealth and influence than them," he replied. "It'll be easier for me to get rid of Hephaestus and his parents when the right time comes."

"And when shall that be?" He looked down, avoiding her gaze. Rhea nodded, frowning. "You are about to make the same mistake that your father did. You allow yourself to be overcome with voraciousness."

"That is pretty much what Athena also said."

But Rhea did not listen to his remark. Instead, she continued unabated. "Do not let your greed and love for power blind you to the point where you destroy everything you have ever built. You are by far your father's superior in every respect. Do not stoop to his level."

Zeus realized all of a sudden that his mother had mentioned Cronus twice already. To say that he was bewildered would be an understatement. For years, she had avoided so much as to mention him, making it clear that she would only receive news on her husband if they had to do with his death. Could that have anything to do with the banquet on New Year's Eve? Since her husband's abdication, Rhea had been feigning illness on that very day to avoid crossing paths with him. Good for her, the Greeks had never questioned her absence. Everyone had heard of her ill health they no longer dared suspect that there was something else going on. Ironically enough, however, the more lies the Palace shared with the public about Queen Rhea's health, the higher her approval ratings got. Following her unexpected appearance on church on Christmas Day, the spectators standing outside had greeted her with loud cheers and get-well wishes, as if they had just seen an old friend.

Perhaps he was just being stupid. His mother was using his father as an example of the man he should not become. She had been doing so since Zeus could remember himself, after all.

"Try to find a solution that is beneficial to everyone."

Rhea's voice interrupted his trail of thoughts. He sighed. "That is impossible, I'm afraid. Sacrifices must be made. They're inevitable."

"Then... you ought to find the one solution that will lead to the most harmless damage."

"We are Greeks, Mother. To us, everything is either as black or white. Either we'll be on the top or we'll be at the bottom. There's no such thing as the middle ground for us."

"It is your duty to find it. Establish it by yourself, if you have to. But first, you ought to make amends with Aphrodite. Do not worry about Athena. She's very much her father's daughter. She loves you too much to hate you."

"So you are suggesting that I should accept Dione's offer."

"This is what you have been planning to do all along, isn't it? Do not doubt yourself, dear. You have taken far more important decisions with less skepticism."

Zeus scoffed and looked into her eyes. He could not hide from his mother if he tried. Worried that she might be getting tired, he asked her if she'd like them to get back to the Palace but she refused. Before she could even give him the chance to ask why, she changed the topic. "So tell me, how is Hera? She looked rather... aged the last time I saw her."

He understood what she was implying. She had been telling him that he ought to take better care of his wife for years. But he couldn't help being who he was. Yet his mother wouldn't understand that. "She is working too much, that's all. There are many things she needs to take care of."

"I do hope that... boy... doesn't cause her any distress anymore."

"Ares?"

Rhea gave him a disapproving look. Zeus exhaled, realizing who she was referring to. "I hope, for you sake, that you are not thinking of coming back to him for comfort," she added sternly. "He is going to make you feeble and you cannot afford to be it. Not now."

He could hear the disappointment in her voice. He had told her all about Ganymede the day after Hera had left the Royal Palace. In his weakest moment, he had called his mother in the middle of the night in tears and he had confessed everything to her. Looking back, it may have been a mistake. Or maybe not. He needed her to remind him that he ought to stand his ground and be the man that she had raised him to be.

Once more, Rhea hesitated to ask the next question. But her curiosity got the better of her. "Does it hurt you to be away from him?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

She pinched his arm. "Your wife will always be there for you. Poseidon realized it when he was about to lose her. Why won't you?"

Letting out a long sigh, Zeus rubbed his fingers against his mother's soft skin. "I know. I know." It was the answer he would always give every time Rhea would ask him that question. Somehow, it never occurred to him to think of a better one. "So," he added. "I heard that Amphitrite is unwell. What's wrong with her?"

Rhea frowned. Much as she hated to admit, her youngest son had never taken much of a liking to his sister-in-law. As a matter of fact, he had always treated her like part of the furniture. But it was very convenient for him to use her as a means to change the subject. Nevertheless, she began to tell him what happened during breakfast. Pointless as it seemed to be, she had always hoped that he would start caring about Amphitrite, even if just a little bit. It would actually be nice to hear him actually greet her from time to time.

From his part, Zeus was relieved. A few hours ago, he had been on the phone to the Prime Minister. Mr. Kallinikos had reassured him that he could send Dione's ransom money to the Swiss bank he wished and his government would turn a blind eye. As for the other members of the Parliament... well... they would deal with them later. Now that he had also received his mother's wishes, he could announce his final decision to his ex-wife. But not yet. He'd rather leave her waiting for a little while longer. Perhaps her brother, that Aias, would start losing patience and increase the amount. He would accept the offer then. After all, one always had to save a few pennies for a rainy day...

"I'm afraid I'm getting tired, dear," Rhea said. She had started to pant.

"We should be getting back, then."

"I hope it rains. The sky always becomes clearer after it rains."

Zeus couldn't tell whether that was an implication or a genuine wish. But he wouldn't trouble himself over it either.

He smiled and Rhea held on to him. Zeus knew she didn't need to. She was fit for her age and she could walk perfectly fine without any kind of support. But, nevertheless, she needed one. She needed to know that someone was there for her.

What could he possibly say? He was still his mother's son...

* * *

 _11:00 A.M._

 _Queen Gaia Children's Hospital, Kolonaki, Central Athens_

A little girl falls straight into my arms and holds on to me for dear life. With my one hand, I am still holding the flowers and small teddy bear she gave me and so I caress her brown hair with the other. The nurses and doctors around us laugh as she looks up and asks me with a voice full of innocent sadness: "Don't go, P'incess!"

I love this little one. She's the sassiest of the twelve children that have gathered in the room. Whereas the others are shier, this one immediately hurried to show her appreciation for me first thing by presenting me with the small bouquet of white roses and her favourite toy. She also can't let go of me and keeps coming back into my arms.

This one will go far in life. She's a go-getter. I have to admit, she rather reminds me of myself at that age.

"I am going to take this little one home with me!" I joke and the staff burst out laughing again.

I don't mean it, of course. But I have probably struck a cord in her little head and she looks up, silently begging to me to turn my small suggestion into a reality. But I can't do it.

Can you imagine how everyone would react if I suddenly decided to adopt a five-year-old girl whose parents are still very much alive and right here, in front of me?

But good for me, there are no cameras around to capture the moment (except for those that the doctors, the nurses, and the parents carry with them), so everyone is a lot more relaxed. I do that sometimes, showing up in hospitals just like that. Not everything has to be part of my official schedule, after all. Besides, on an official capacity, I am the Royal Patron of the charity that owns and runs this hospital.

This may sound surprising to you, but those children are my little heroes. They all have life-limiting conditions (which I won't name but you can guess) I make sure to visit them every three to four months. It might make me come across as lazy but I cannot become a more frequent visitor. In that case, the thrill of a royal visit would not be there anymore. Funnily enough, I used to volunteer in a hospital like that when I was a teenager and Zeus Almighty had urged me to do something in order to set my agenda for the future. Due to heavy schedule, I can't do that anymore, so I help in any other way I can. I cannot tell you how many heart-wrenching letters I receive from parents every week, asking me to do whatever I can to help, from paying their children a visit to donating money because they cannot afford treatment or the necessary equipment that their child needs. They know I can pick up the phone and change their lives and, well, if it is to save a life or two, I'm more than happy to make the necessary calls.

You have no idea how many doors your title, your family name, and your connections can open. And you'd be stupid if you did not put them in good use.

I have been here for the past hour (I left the hotel straight after breakfast) and during that time, I have toured the facilities, talked to the children, the parents, and the volunteers, handed out Christmas gifts (which the hospital had provided my aides with the day before but don't tell the children I told you that), sang the Greek version of _Jingle Bells_ more times than I can count, and discussed with the staff what needed to change to make their work easier.

If it was up to me, I'd have also shown up in my jeans and sneakers but the children were informed that I was coming over the day before and they were very, very eager to see me the way they know me - that is, in a pretty dress, fancy jewelery, and heels - and the least I could do is not let them down. Still, I can't help thinking that maybe, deep down, I have. I can see the glimpse of disappointment in their small, innocent eyes. They must have expected I had brought Blanche or one of my tiaras along as well. Believe me, if dogs were allowed in hospitals in this country, I would have. Children love animals and Blanche is very, very sociable when she's in a good mood. But they are all impeccably well-mannered and didn't say a thing.

Not even Little Miss Sassy over here, who's still holding me hostage in her small embrace.

I may not be right about the tiara thing, though. At least that's the impression that I get every time I get to meet little ones. Next time I go somewhere where there'll be children, I should make sure to bring plastic tiaras along. But then again, if I do it once, I'll have to do it every single time. That sounds rather impractical, don't you think?

Still, the more time I spend with these children, the more I am reminded of what Ares told me on Christmas Eve. Much as I hate to admit, I can't help thinking about the children Hephaestus and I will have to have. I know about his family history and the 'troubled gene' that might be hiding in there. Hephaestus' limp and rather contorted features can be attributed to that. But I doubt that those children can survive in our world. It's funny, how you admire public figures who dedicate their time and energy to helping people with special needs, yet once they have a member like that in their own families, everyone seems to be considering - and even treating - them as the "odd one out". But that's a story for another time, I suppose.

I try to push that thought aside. There is no need for speculations right now. I will be here only for a few more minutes and so I need to enjoy the happy hustle and bustle that the little ones cause as much as I still can.

In fact, I have an idea.

"You know what, why don't you all give me one big, happy group hug before I go?"

The room suddenly fills with childhood laughter and I manage to hand the flowers and the toy to the nurse next to me before they all attack me with a renewed display of their love. So forceful is their admiration, in fact, that I involuntarily take a step back before I hug all of them at once. Suddenly I feel like a giant. Then I get on my knees and hug each one individually. I might be five minutes late to my daily appointment with Lydia, but she'll understand. It's not the first time she's had to deal with my joy to be around children.

But, sadly, all good things must come to an end. So, as soon as the last child - a three-year-old boy, finishes hugging me, I get up and, holding the roses and teddy bear again, I say a few words before I go: "Thank you, all of you! You are doing a marvelous, truly marvelous job and I can't quite put into words just how much I admire you for the work that you do. We, as a society, owe you a big thank you for the things that you do every single day and, if I may, I'd like to encourage you to never, ever give up hope!"

All the adults in the room break into applause. Some parents are even wiping away their tears with paper tissues or their fingers. As I make my way to the door, I can hear some children asking me to stay a while longer but the nurses explain to them that I have to go. For some odd reason, the exhaustion of the past couple of days and the lack of sleep has worn off and I feel like getting busy again.

I am escorted outside by the director of the hospital and, yes, you guessed right, also one of my security agents. The director is a renowned pediatrician, who has dedicated his entire life in researching possible treatments for such conditions. Also, call me a bad student, but I don't remember which ones he actually focuses on... But that doesn't matter much. As he escorts me to the door (my security agent in tow too as you can guess), he tells me about a new unit that they want to build and new equipment they need to buy. Truth be told, the hospital does look rather... aged...

"I'd be more than happy to provide you with the money that you need, Sir," I tell him. "In fact, I can introduce you to new donors as well, since the ones you already have don't seem much interested anymore. I am sure my maternal family will be happy to help as well, as long as it remains private. They don't like publicity very much."

He looks relieved. I actually think I just added ten years to his lifespan just like that. Yes, I know, I am promoting the Oceanides family's charitable sentiments, but, hey, if they can give fifty millions to Thunder and Peacock just to let me live my own life, they can certainly donate as much money - if not more - in order to save and improve other people's lives. They have already helped build hospitals, schools, and other facilities in Greece, Cyprus, the UK and the US, so I guess I'll just add one more drop of water to the ocean (no pun intended) of their contributions to humanity. Besides, as Grandma Tethys loves to say, "A little bit more help never did much harm." I mean it's already bad enough that the state doesn't provide charities with some sort of income for their upkeep. But, more work for us I guess.

"Thank you, Your Highness," he replies. "I can't tell you just how-"

Breaking the protocol, I touch his hand. He's sweating, poor thing! "You don't have to thank me, truly. It's a pleasure! In fact, I think I might be visiting you soon again!"

He chuckles. "Well, you already seem to have made some new friends!"

I giggle and then make my way to the door. He kisses the back of my hand as a way to say goodbye (I can't get this one to bow his head no matter how many times I've sent him a protocol sheet...) and then I make my way to my car, which is already parked outside. Another car - for additional security - is parked right behind it, just in case.

So, I guess I have already found a goal for 2007: dedicate more time to my charity work. Lydia will hate me for saying this for she thinks I am already working myself out, but still - sometimes I feel like I'm the only person in this country that people turn to in their time of need.

And I hate it, I hate it so. But then again, it's the only one of my royal duties that I enjoy doing.

Probably because it's the only one that can bring forth significant change.

Saving one life may not sound like a big achievement. But it is. And the more lives we get to save or change, the greatest our legacy will be in the long run...

* * *

 _11:45 A.M._

 _Army base, Alexandroupoli, Northern Greece_

Ares was exhausted but he didn't care. Sitting on an empty tend a short distance away from the soldiers' lodging (a tall building with a metallic roof and iron fences on the windows), he was digging a hole in the ground just to get his time going. Truth be told, he felt the calmest he had felt in a long time. At long last, he was back to where he belong. For the next couple of months, he'd no longer be constantly controlled by Hera, looked down upon by Zeus, or belittled by Athena. Most importantly, he wouldn't be under Aphrodite's seductive spell.

He clenched his fists in anger at her memory. She hadn't even bothered to call him to say goodbye. That was it then. He had gotten the message. She wouldn't apologize for doing what she had believed was the right thing for them both. That's why he had been so mad at her in the first place. She had acted like she had been wearing the pants in the relationship all along. And he had been a fool to let her believe it.

Hopefully, he'd forget about her and focus on his work. His days would be filled with giving orders to his soldiers of lesser ranking, he'd arrange patrols in the surrounding areas, shooting guns, practicing in the fields, and making sure that his country had stayed away from harm.

The country that, one day, would fall into her arms.

And then he'd have to serve her. For Queen and Country!

Every time he closed his eyes, even for a few seconds, he could see her face. She was still giving him that mocking smile, as if she had every right to laugh at his face. She'd be a recurring nightmare, plaguing his dreams until he wouldn't be able to take it anymore. He'd wake up at night, covered in sweat, and the other men in the room with him would make fun of him behind his back.

Time and again, he had tried to find solace in what Zeus had told him when he had been a teenager. "Women are like fruit. You pick which one you like best, but throw away the leftovers once you're done."

Easier said than done...

As he began to dig the hole deeper, he remembered someone else's advice. "Give her time. She'll make her own choices."

Well, now she had all the time in the world. But he knew her well. She'd rather be married to that coward Hephaestus rather than fall back into his arms. All for the sake of their affair remaining a secret...

And he was stuck with Eos. Perhaps he owed her an explanation. After all, it was him who had gotten her involved in this mess along. He had better end things with her before it was too late. Amphitrite had always said that a handwritten letter will be far more personal than a phone call or a text message. So, he'd do that. He'd write to Eos the first chance he got and gently demand that she should not ask of him ever again.

Speaking of, his PA had been supposed to let Aphrodite know about her. But if he had done so, she'd have already called him a hundred times to demand an explanation. Unless she was giving him the silent treatment, all the while planning her revenge. He wouldn't call her either. It'd make him seem like he was the loser.

He wouldn't write to her either. She wasn't even worth the words he'd waste for her sake.

Still, she was still very much a destructive force. He was eager to see her name on the screen. Much as he hated to admit, he was curious to see if she'd call him in fury or if she'd prompt for a strong-worded message instead.

Well, he had to give it to her. Cold-hearted as she may be, she was certainly far from boring.

It wouldn't hurt if he had a bit of fun with her now, would it?

He didn't waste a second. After he removed his mobile phone from the chest pocket in the jacket of his military uniform, he unlocked and began the text message fast, all the while cursing at T9 for making his life harder than it already was. He reminded himself for the hundredth time that he'd have to deactivate that function at some point.

When he finally managed to replace all the wrong words with correct ones and made sure that his message was short and consistent but still made sense, he pressed the 'SEND' button.

As he put it back into his pocket, he smiled wide. He hadn't felt prouder of himself since that night in Chelsea.

Getting back to his digging, he tried to picture Aphrodite's reaction. She'd have no idea what hit her.

Well, he didn't pity her. She should have seen it coming. It was all her doing after all.

Taking a look at his watch, he stood up and headed to the headquarters.

He had work to do. He wouldn't waste any more time thinking about her.

End of story.

* * *

 _Glyfada Beach, South Athens_

The waves touch the stranded beach with a forceful gentleness. Again and again. It's a wonderful sight. Very relaxing.

Tempting, too. If I could, I would get my clothes off and jump straight into the water. But I can't. For various reasons. It's the middle of the day; my security team keeps patrolling the sea, keeping a safe distance from me and still bearing guns; and I'm still on my period. So, unless you want 'Runaway Bride' to meet 'Jaws', I wouldn't recommend you try and convince me to actually do it.

It would be fun if I did it on my actual wedding day though. No matter who the groom might be.

Sorry, my sense of humour is pretty pathetic today. I'm just trying to forget about everyone and everything. Again!

I take a deep breath. Even though I'm wearing sunglasses, I close my eyes and inhale the sea air. Blanche next to me begins to howl in the wind and I get the portable CD player out of my purse and press 'PLAY.' Helena Paparizou's latest album, fittingly titled _The Game of Love_ , is my new latest obsession. For some reason, I find myself identifying with all the songs in there - especially _Gigolo_. You can't even imagine how many exes of mine I could dedicate this song to... But it's a happy, silly little song and I'm not in the mood for this kind of music. Fast forward all the way to... unlucky song number 13. It's called _Seven Days_. It's a melancholic rock ballad about the week following a break-up.

Quite fitting, don't you think?

The singer's smooth, mezzo-soprano voice fills my ears and, before I know it, I find myself listening to her deep, dramatic, and sensual performance for what may as well be the thousandth time since I purchased this album.

Before I even realize it, I start to sing along:

 _Seven days and seven nights_

 _One week is more than I can take_

 _I'm loosing it all_

 _I'm a fool without you baby_

 _Seven days and seven nights_

 _I don't understand_

 _How to make it right_

 _I've been constantly aware of you_

 _For seven days and seven nights_

Yes, it does hurt me to sing this song. And yes, I do see Ares everywhere I go. I even confused a random stranger at the lobby of the hotel for him. I have no idea who this guy is in real life but, in my defense, he did look a lot like him. Oh well. He can look back on his visit to Athens one day and say that he maintained an awkward eye contact with the very flabbergasted Crown Princess of Greece for twenty seconds.

If he doesn't spend all of his time wondering what on earth I was doing in a hotel of all places, that is.

The song ends but I play it again. I burst into tears again and I don't know if I should blame the wind or my own feelings. Reaching for my purse again, I take out some handkerchiefs and wipe my eyes. All the while, Blanche is quietly sitting by my side. The waves in the winter scare her, poor thing.

Suddenly, my phone rings. I can see the small screen lighting up. Flipping it open, I unlock it. It says I have a text message. Pretty sure it's Hephaestus. Again!

Maybe I should just call him and tell him that now it's not a good time and that I need him to give me some space. It will save him quite some money in the long run.

But it's not him. In fact it's... Ares?

My hands begin to tremble. He can't have... It's... Why? Did he realize his mistake all of a sudden? Is he texting to apologize? Oh please, I hope he is! I don't think I can take this torture any longer!

His text is short. Simple. Final.

 _"I met someone else. Her name is Eos. You were right. We need to keep our distance."_

This... bloody...

No. I won't do it. I won't scream. Just calm down and think. Think, think, think, think...

I'll call him. I'll demand an explanation. If he's hiding behind his phone screen, then he sure as heck can be an adult for five seconds and answer a freaking phone call.

I type his number. My heart is beating wildly. I bring the phone close to my ear. Blanche is sensing my distress and she keeps staring at me, but I can't deal with her right now.

It starts to ring. And it just keeps on ringing.

Pick it up, you fool!

He doesn't. I just keep on listening to the same old, boring, ringing sound.

I hate it. I hate everyone.

Most of all, him.

And Helena keeps singing in my ear:

 _I'll keep waiting for an answer_

 _Even if I know the truth lays_

 _Deep within my heart_

So, that's it, then. Astris was right. _"If you both get involved with other people at this point, you'll be growing apart all the more."_ Those were her exact words.

This must be what reaching the true point of no return feels like. Like you have a volcano inside you that is about to erupt. It burns so much that it hurts. And you just want to do something. Scream, shout, break things... Anything.

As long as it gets all the anger and frustration out of your system.

But I can't just... sit around and do nothing. This girl... It's her fault. Ares must have definitely slept with her, at least once. So, that means she's pretty. And so soon after our fight too...!

Unless he knew her from before. Yes, that must be the case. It would be very cheap of him to get involved with her just to get back at me. Then again... Who am I kidding? This is Ares we're talking about. He's a damn coward. A cry-baby. All those tattoos that he has and the muscular body that he's built... Don't get fooled by them. They're only his camouflage, a way for him to come across as a true rebel without a cause...

Gosh, I feel like an idiot. I allowed my self to fall into his trap and to be charmed by his ways. It was a fun game and we were two very naughty children. But everyone is getting tired of fighting in the long run.

And so, what did he do? He fell into the arms of the first random woman he met on the street. If he was already acquainted with her, then he got back to her.

That makes him twice as pathetic!

Calm down, Aphrodite. Take deep breaths. Think sensibly.

It's her. She's the one I should blame. It's all her fault.

She stole him from me. And I don't like to be robbed of the things and the people I hold most dear.

All my former pangs of jealousy were only the rain before the storm - a small fair warning before the big break-up. But now, I truly mean war.

Blanche howls. I take her leash in my hands. "Come on, girl. We're leaving!"

She barks and, wagging her tail, follows me as I make my way to the car. My security agents all rush to get back to their places in the cars. "I want to go straight to the hotel," I tell my chauffeur. "And we'd better hurry."

I have so many ideas about my revenge that I need to get them down on paper before it's too late. I must set a truly elaborate plan that will guarantee that she'll go out of the picture for good and Ares will fall back into my arms with much more lust than before.

As for that... girl... That Eos... She'll never know what hit her.

* * *

 _1:30 P.M._

 _Hades' mansion, Ekali, Northern suburbs of Athens_

Hestia tried her best to hide her distress from her brother. Hades knew that she never felt comfortable coming over here, of course. Truth be told, he didn't like his home in Athens either. He had simply purchased it so that he would have a place to stay every time Zeus asked him to spend a few days with his family. If he were a little more family-oriented like his sisters, he'd stay at Tatoi. But then again, it didn't feel right for him. Since he had abolished his rights to the throne, he was a Prince only in title. He received no royal appanage and performed no royal duties. Therefore it wouldn't be fair for the rest of the family if he suddenly showed up in the palace that made them feel at home.

He and Hestia were already in the dining room, enjoying the meal that his cook had prepared. As soon as his sister stepped into the room, she immediately felt more at ease. It was the brightest room in the entire house and the one he spent the less time decorating - he didn't spend much time in there anyway since he preferred to eat either in the kitchen, the living room, or his study, much to the amusement of his small staff, which he paid for by himself. He was a busy man; he had lots of business to attend to. Yet, no matter how many times people were asking him what he was doing for a living, he immediately changed the subject. He didn't like to talk about it. End of story.

Truth be told, he preferred his primary house (his "base", as he jokingly called it) in the Mani Peninsula in the south part of mainland Greece, a short distance away from Cape Matapas. There, he owned an estate which was about half as big as Tatoi. Call it sentimentality too, but the mansion he had had built in there was an exact replica of the Palace of Tatoi - only slightly smaller and without so many additional buildings for the staff and the guests. Both of his sister and Amphitrite would complain to him that he lived in an empty house filled with furniture but he didn't care. Perhaps it was just one of their attempts to convince him to get a wife. But he was a lone wolf. Always had been and always will be.

But at least he could enjoy spending time on his own in here as well. At least his siblings didn't mind paying him a visit. Other than Hera's birthday and Christmas Day, he had hardly seen them at all. That's why Hestia's visit came as a surprise to him. His initial reaction was worry: something must have happened in order for her to come all the way over here. But he pushed that thought aside soon enough. She may have simply missed him.

It wouldn't surprise him one bit.

Yet Hestia was far more quiet than she normally was today. He had hoped that the food would cheer her up: roast chicken and potatoes with lots of oregano on top. It wasn't his particular preference but he knew just how much his sister liked it. Besides, it was the only food that his cook could prepare on such short notice.

They were eating in silence, listening only to the ticking of the Victorian grandfather's clock in the corner of the room. But Hades could sense that something was troubling her a lot. She couldn't have come all the way here just for the food. The one in Tatoi definitely tasted a lot better, although it was too extravagant for his taste. Normally, he didn't start a conversation. Now, however, he felt like he didn't have a choice.

"Do you like your food?"

Taken by surprise, Hestia looked up. "What?"

Her absentmindedness was all the proof he needed. Leaning back on his antique ornamental chair, he placed his napkin on the table and crossed his legs. "What is the matter, Hestia?"

His sister didn't try to laugh it off, like the rest of his family would have when confronted in such a direct way. That was one of the things he liked about her the most. Unlike their relatives, she never tried to run away from her own shadow.

Setting down her knife and fork, she hid her hands under the table. Hades saw it as a bad sign. "Did anything bad happen to Mother?" he asked worryingly.

Hestia shook her head. "She's fine. Healthy as she'll ever be and stubborn like a mule, as she always has been."

Hades smiled, even though he felt there was more to come. But, knowing his sister, he let her take her time. He saw her taking deep breaths and staring down, as if she didn't want to meet his eyes. For a little while longer, the ticking of the clock was the only sound that filled the room.

"It's... It's Father," she said eventually.

Hades tensed. Uncrossing his legs, he leaned forward on the table, furrowing his brows. Hestia continued to avoid his gaze. She reminded him so, so much of Cronus when he did that...!

Trying to hide her nervousness, she grabbed her fork again and began to fiddle with her food. In the end, she let it drop into her plate. There was no reason to play with it anyway.

"I went to see him the other day," she added.

"And? Did he seem well?"

She couldn't help noticing the hatred in his voice. Of course. Out of all the children, Hades was the one who was traumatized by their father the most.

"He looked sick," she replied.

Hades clenched his fist. "It was probably one of his tricks. You'd be a fool to take pity in him."

"He spit blood. I saw him." Her brother furrowed his brows again. Letting out a long sigh, Hestia added: "I visited him the other day. He looked... cheerful. Like he was genuinely happy to see me. I thought it was yet another one of his tricks. But then, all of a sudden.. he started to cough uncontrollably. When I asked him if he was alright, he got angry and asked me to leave. I asked his doctor too, but only after much convincing, he finally told me what it was. Lung cancer."

Hades had no idea what to say. He had no idea whether he should feel pity, shock, or sympathy. Out of all the men in the world... he was never expecting his father to die. In a strange way, he had always feared that his father would have found a way to beat death as well. His throat suddenly felt dry. Grabbing his glass of red wine, he gulped it down. "So, he's dying, then."

Hestia was rather taken aback by his apathy, although she had not been expecting him to react any differently. She was just like that as well. She always kept her feelings to herself.

For the next few seconds, she watched as her brother slapped both hands against the oak table and then tapped his fingers on it. He always did that when he was thinking about his next steps.

"Have you told Zeus?" he asked, leaning back on his chair.

"I couldn't possibly. He seems to have too much on his plate right now, with Dione being here and all."

He nodded. "No need to explain."

They both went silent again, each sinking in their own thoughts. After a while, though, Hestia spoke: "We need to tell Zeus first. He will find a way to tell the rest of the family."

Hades frowned. "Wouldn't it better if we told the whole family at once?"

"His grandchildren barely know him!" Hestia snapped. "Rhode and Hebe have only seen him twice in their lives! And, if you don't start visiting us more often, you will suffer the same fate as well!"

She knew how her brother hated to be told what to do but she couldn't help giving him a good piece of his mind. She could understand his need for solitude yet, since becoming a private citizen, Hades seemed to have retreated into a self-imposed exile in his own country - very much like their father had done after his abdication.

"Well, then," Hades replied. "We'll have to tell our siblings at once!"

Hestia grabbed her fork again. "I take it you are attending the New Year's Eve gala, then."

He raised his eyebrow. "I attended Hera's birthday. I figured one more evening wouldn't hurt. Besides, I'll get to see Mother again."

"No one is keeping you from visiting her, you know. You are not a prisoner in your own home."

Hades knew where this was going. The last thing he needed right now was Hestia giving him a lecture on how he ought to treat his family. He already felt bad enough for communicating with the rest of his family only via phone calls. But his solitude was part of who he was - he needed to be alone for days on end. If that made him asocial, so be it.

"We won't tell them the night of the gala," he said sternly. "When are Poseidon and Amphitrite going back to Porto Heli?"

"The fourth of January. Mother is going to leave with them. She can't wait to leave Tatoi."

Hades nodded. He knew how much his mother hated that place. It reminded her of their father. Well, he couldn't blame her... "I see. We'll tell them either the second or the third of January, then."

Hestia felt relieved. She has glad not to carry on that weight on her shoulders by herself anymore. Plus, Hades had reacted much calmer than she had been expecting. Now she could only hope that her more intemperate younger brothers would do the same. Suddenly, Hades burst out laughing.

"What is it?" she asked. She had no idea what to make out of that kind of reaction.

"Father has always had a terrible sense of timing, don't you think?" he replied. "Out of all the times he could choose to mess us all up, he chose just the most inappropriate one!"

With a sigh, Hestia went back to eating. She could never understand how black humour worked or why some people thought it was funny, her brother included. The way she saw it, someone's passing was the greatest tragedy that could befall a family. It was the most permanent form of absence and separation there was. Hades, though, didn't seem to see it that way.

But then again, her brother had always been a hard one to read.

* * *

 _3:00 P.M._

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

The devil incarnate is here.

No, I don't mean Zeus Almighty, although that was a good guess. But I think we can all agree that there is only one person in this entire universe who perfectly lives up to this moniker.

Hint: she's in her early fifties, average height, looks more Russian than Greek, is Zeus Almighty's third cousin, the mother of three of his kids, and has been pissed off every single day since 1983.

Yup. Now you got it right. It's Peacock. In all her glorious majesty.

In my study. In the Royal Suite. In my very own realm.

Turns out that the chess players are right. Queens really can move in all directions. And that's not good. Not at all.

Conveniently enough for her, she is also standing right behind the desk and stares out of the window. I get the message. She wants to act like the boss. Well, wait until the day Thunder either abdicates or dies. Then the fun shall begin.

But we're still stuck in 2006 and my life still sucks, so I guess I have no choice but to put up with her. Looking at her right now, though, I actually wonder... If I take a picture and send it to Disney, she could serve as inspiration for the next Evil Queen. Or a Wicked Witch. I'll be pleased either way, as long as she's a villain. She'll get her time of glory and Zeus Almighty will be proud of his wife for a change.

There! Everyone's happy!

Ah, screw it. I may not want to deal with her at all, but at the end of the day, she's still the Queen. And I ought to do whatever she asks me to.

Including curtsying to her.

"Your Majesty!"

She turns to look at me. Oh boy, she means business. I haven't done anything this time, I swear! I've actually been avoiding bodyguards like the plague since she found out and arranged for the Prime Minister to send me to that endless tour.

Oh dear... I'll be presenting Greece in Patagonia soon enough... I can see it in her eyes. And Patagonia isn't even a real country to begin with...

I shouldn't let her know I suspect as much, though. She might get any bad ideas and I'll find myself in there for real.

What on earth do they even wear down there?

"Aphrodite! Let us be brief, shall we?" See what I told you? I'm in some big trouble, I tell ya! Now she's taking her seat behind the desk and she gives me her infamous icy glare. "I know everything."

Wait, what?

Alright, Froufrou, stay calm... Just say something. Anything. "Good for you."

OK, maybe I should have kept my mouth shut. However, in my defense, it did come across as irony. And she still doesn't seem to appreciate my efforts. She leans back on the leather chair and folds her arms. I can already hear her evil laughter in my head. I know what that means. Things will only go downhill from there.

"About you and Ares, I mean."

Wait, what? H-how? Why? I- I didn't even... We didn't...

Oh gosh, it's suddenly getting rather hot in here...

Peacock doesn't care. She keeps on having that smug look on her face like she has every right to come in here and demand an explanation. I swear, I never wanted to slap anyone as much as her at this very moment. Right across the face. I really wish I could leave a bruise on her cheek that'd be so red, it would still be visible under countless layers of foundation.

But I have gone numb all over. I don't think I can move. But I need to do something. Come on, Aphrodite, you mustn't let her win...!

I dig my fingernails in my skin. It's the least I can do to calm down. I can't take deep breaths - she'll see it. I can't fall flat on the chair behind me either, tempting as it might be, for she'll think me weak. No, I must remain standing. I need to fool her somehow. Besides, she must have sat down waiting for me to follow her lead and this way I will show her that she's not welcome in here.

Besides, that's my own home. I have been living in here for six years for heaven's sake! I know every wall and corner of this hotel. I even call the employees by their small names sometimes! I very much doubt she can even name the three maids that clean up the Private Quarters every day...

"Let me guess," I reply calmly, in a desperate attempt to gain the upper hand. "You had that bodyguard spy on me again."

Oh come on, don't act surprised. I realized it was her the night I destroyed my personal diary. Zeus Almighty would never dare disrespect my privacy in such a desperate manner. But that night I kicked Ares out, I was more upset at the mess he had made and at his fighting with my spying bodyguard than I was proud of him defending me. I couldn't think clearly then. But a few days have gone by since.

Looking back, perhaps he should have been one of the bodyguards I had seduced instead. For one thing, I would have gotten rid of him long before I could even dream of getting involved with Ares... Hera wouldn't have found out about my abortion then. And she wouldn't even be in here now, demanding an explanation.

"It still remains unclear to me why Ares had to spend an entire day here with you and why you two disappeared the night of my birthday."

How... utterly convenient for her! Pushing me against the wall, playing the ever-powerful of the two... She's trying to get me in her trap. But I should be smarter than that. At the end of the day, Ares and I fell in love and we punished ourselves for it. What was done, was done. The story cannot be reversed now.

"He needed a place to stay and then we went out to drink and dance. We didn't do anything wrong."

And unless she had installed secret cameras in that abandoned house, there's no way she could prove me wrong...

She frowns. "Let me be the judge of that."

"For heaven's sake! He's my brother!"

Yes, now I am playing the 'common sense' card. But even that seems to be falling on deaf ears.

Hera keeps staring at me like I've just committed murder. She still wears that god-awful mocking smile and I can actually hear her voice in my head urging me to say that again, but slowly. I just need to find a way out of this. And fast.

"It's all about Hephaestus, isn't it?"

She unfolds her arms. I take that as a good sign. "Indeed. Your father is still waiting for your answer. I suppose that your mother is here to convince him to change his mind." Of course. You bet she'd use Mama Rose's name to her own advantage... "But the best thing for you is to wed Mr. Petalas and to remain married to him. You cannot afford another scandal."

Notice the way she accentuated the words "remain" and "scandal"... She wants to screw me up. But I can still turn things around. "And what does Ares have to do with it?"

She clenches her jaw. Then she exhales, twice. She unfolds and then refolds her arms. That's it, then. That's what she looks like when she's losing.

"It has come to my attention that he's a bit of a..." She pouts, looking for the right word. "A distraction for you. He is simply wasting your time, dear!"

Great, she's being the one in the outfit now... It's alright, lady. I get the message.

Now hold on a second... If she's here and acts with so much confidence... And she's basically telling me to break up with him... Perhaps she did the same thing to Ares. He's her son, after all, and therefore she has more power over him than she has over me. As for that girl... Eos...

Oh dear. Hera is behind all this! She's the one that arranged for the two to be introduced! She's just here to make sure I find out about her. Yes, she has already arranged for the two to have an affair. Or, even worse, a relationship...

But... Where does that leave me?

This is an odd deja-vu. I feel like I am back in the Grand Salon at the Royal Palace and she's confronting me about misbehaving. There she is, pacing up and down in the room and I am just sitting there like a ten-year-old who was caught red-handed.

I can't take this anymore. "Is this some sort of punishment?"

"It may as well be." She sits up straight. "If you wish to think of it as such."

I scoff. "There is nothing going on between me and Ares! Heavens! How could you even think so?"

But Peacock doesn't seem to think much of my acting skills. "You said the same thing when you were confronted about those two security agents. They lost their jobs because of you."

Damn it, she's using a trump card! But, for your information, I did not ask them to be lured by me in the first place. They just were. And, when the time came, they didn't deny it either. So, in short, it's their fault that they're currently unemployed.

Suddenly, I just... blank out. I can't think clearly. "You were forced into a marriage. How did that make you feel?"

I don't expect her to reply and indeed, she does not. She just remains in place, too astonished to react. I fold my arms and bite my bottom lip. I stare at her for a few moments and I nod. Without another word, I make my way to the door. The air has gotten too thick in here.

Anna is the first thing I see when I step into the sitting room. She's grooming Blanche, dressed in a nylon overcoat so that dog hair won't stick to her uniform. The moment she notices me, though, she gets up and awaits for my request.

"Please escort Her Majesty to the door. Blanche, come on!"

While my friendly maid nods and rushes into the study, my dog follows me into the bedroom. I fall flat on the bed, enjoying the solitude for a change. My hands are trembling and I feel nauseous again.

 _She knows. She knows, she knows, she knows..._

That's all I can think of. And I hate it as much as I hate her. But whom am I kidding? I can never hate anyone more than I despise her. She wants to take Ares away from me. She is going to do anything possible in order to achieve it. Even selling me off to Hephaestus would do...

Sensing my distress, Blanche climbs on the bed and stars to lick my face. I pet her and she rubs her head against my arm. When Anna enters to inform me that Peacock is gone, I am already laughing at Blanche's antics and cuteness.

"Bring me her leash and ask for the car to be prepared," I ask her. "We're going on a long walk." As soon as she hears these magic words, Blanche starts to bark, howl and jump on me, wagging her tail uncontrollably. Normally, I'd laugh at the sight, but I don't feel cheerful enough to do that. "Oh, and Anna! I won't accept any phone calls or visitors for the rest of the day, including my mother! And if the Queen wishes to visit me again, just... find an excuse to get rid of her."

She looks perplexed. "As you wish, Miss."

Oh, don't worry about Mother. She will understand that I need to be left alone for a while. I may visit her later to see if she's spoken with Uncle Aias. If I feel well enough, I'll tell her about Peacock's visit as well.

Blanche barks. She can't wait to leave this place.

Me too, girl. Me too...

* * *

 _The Queen's Bedroom, Palace of Tatoi, Acharnai, Northern Attica_

Poseidon couldn't bring himself to knock on the white wooden door. Amphitrite may have fallen asleep. After all, she hadn't gotten much rest the night before.

Still, he was worried about her. She had been in that room since breakfast and she had hardly eaten anything since. Even the tray with her lunch, which he had asked to be delivered to her hours ago, was still there, left untouched and abandoned outside her bedroom. He sighed. The last time his wife had acted like that, she had been pregnant with Rhode. But Poseidon was certain that this wasn't the case now. He hadn't noticed any changes in her body as far as he was concerned. Plus, she didn't wake up feeling fatigued or nauseous either.

Besides, if that had been the case, she'd have told him first thing.

Perhaps she had just grown homesick. Much as she loved spending time with her in-laws, she couldn't oversee the fact that she was stranded on top of a mountain outside Athens, in the middle of a forest, and as far away from the sea as she could get. To make matters worse, police officers could be seen patrolling the estate throughout the day to make sure there were no trespassers. She had confessed to him once that traveling to Athens made her feel like getting back to prison. Truth be told, the Palace of Tatoi was a far cry from their estate at Porto Heli, with its panoramic view of the Argolic Gulf and its private beach. Their mansion was significantly smaller in size but had larger windows, was decorated with blue and white colours and had modern furniture instead of all those antiquities that flooded this place. Plus, it gave them the right to privacy. Shortly after they had moved there, Amphitrite had put her foot down and convinced the police officers that were assigned to guard them not to enter the estate unless it was an emergency.

But that wasn't the case. Every time Amphitrite missed their home, she took the private car assigned to her and, with her armed protection officer in tow, she drove to the nearest stranded beach until she got rid of that sudden wave of nostalgia.

He didn't waste another minute. Entering the large and opulent room, he instantly noticed her lying on the queen sized bed, her back facing the door. The room was brighter than he had expected. All the window shields were open and all the curtains were drawn to let in as much light as possible. Poseidon grew more concerned. He knew his wife well. She couldn't sleep unless the room was pitch dark and every time she was worried about something, she'd try and make the room as bright as possible, as if that could solve her problems. To make matters worse, she was still in her breakfast outfit and she had not even bothered to cover herself, even with a blanket.

Closing the door behind him, he leaned against it and folded his arms. He had reassured Triton and Rhode earlier that their mother had simply needed to be left alone for a while. Yet the more he looked at her now, the more he doubted it.

She obviously needed to talk to someone but she was too stubborn to admit it. It wasn't the first time. But he was still the perfect man for the job.

"You know, Pearl, if my snoring has gotten this bad, I may have to stay in the King's bedroom!"

He approached the bed, hoping that his teasing trick would work. Sniffling her nose, Amphitrite sat up and rested against the wooden headboard, avoiding his gaze. She wouldn't like him to see her face. But it was too late.

"God..." he exclaimed. "You're white as a sheet! Stay here. I'm calling the doctor."

But she stopped him before he could get up. "No, I'm fine! Really!"

Poseidon didn't believe her but he knew better than to try and change her mind. Yet, in a final attempt to make sure, he took her hand in his. It didn't feel any warmer or colder than usual. For better or worse, though, he also kissed her forehead to make sure. It also felt the same. Although he wasn't completely relieved, at least he could rest assured that she didn't have a fever.

"Stop doing that!" she protested, pulling back.

He sighed. "Insomnia, irritability, lack of appetite..." Amphitrite hugged her knees. To Poseidon, it was an attempt to shield herself. _"_ Pearl, the last time you acted like that, you and the children were in Naxos because of what I had done. Now, if something had happened to your parents or your siblings, you'd have gone to find them by now. Something else is troubling you." Amphitrite flinched. Poseidon knew that this conversation made her uncomfortable but he refused to give up on her. "Do you still trust me enough to tell me what it might be?"

She looked down. He was still holding her hand. Rubbing her fingers against her skin, she contemplated for a moment whether she should hide it from him. She hated seeing him shocked, almost as she despised seeing him angry. But she didn't have another choice. She had been feeling an awful weight on her stomach all day long and she just couldn't wait to get rid of it. Drawing another deep breath, she fixed her posture and looked into his eyes. "It's about Ares."

Poseidon scoffed. "You worry too much about him, my love _._ He is sober now and back where he belongs. He'll be fine."

"Not this time."

"What do you mean?"

She bit her bottom lip. For a moment, she wished that she could disappear but she laughed it off immediately. Poseidon would find a way to come after her again, even if just out of sheer curiosity. But even then she wouldn't have another choice but to tell him the truth. "Hera was right. A-about him a-and..." Her heart was beating wildly. She closed her eyes and exhaled. She couldn't do it. Yet, she had to. "About him and Aphrodite."

 _Not that again..._

"For the last time," he protested. "If I-"

"He told me so himself!"

* * *

 **Phew... so, that was quite the cliffhanger, huh? :P At this point, I'd like to let you about a correction/change I made in Amphitrite's backstory. Originally, she was one of 12 but for practicality's sake, I changed that and now she's one of 5 children. Plus,** **I looked up the lives of minor royals and turns out that working royals of lower ranking can found and/or run charities, have independent careers in their own right, and/or be goodwill ambassadors or charity patrons. I will look into it with more detail at a later point :)**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: At long last, here comes the moment you've all been waiting for :P I truly apologize for taking you back to December in the middle of spring, but these past few months have been too busy for me to focus on anything other than university and stuff. T** ** **here'll be three NYE chapters because, well, I can't resist the drama :P I had to do LOTS of** research on orders, sashes and stuff. I hope this chapter teaches you yet another useless fact or two on royalty which you'll probably never even need to know :P So sit back, relax, and I hope you like it :)**

 **Oh, the orders mentioned there are actual for the most part. Zappeion Megaron is real too (all the buildings I mention in here are real, btw, that's how inspired I am...) You can look it up if you want and its official website also has a virtual tour which is damn convenient for visuals :P**

 **Credit to the "shopping and martinis" idea goes to the lovely ImpersonatingSugar :) **

**ETA: I changed a bit of Dione's storyline because I wanted to** **incorporate Dodona (i.e. Dione's place of worship in ancient Greece) into her arch. Seeing that divorced royals these days do get to keep their titles, I figured that Dione would have a title nonetheless and so we decided to make her the Duchess of Dodona.**

* * *

 _31 December 2006_

 _5:00 P.M._

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

I'm lost, confused, and overwhelmed. All at once. And heaven too.

Nevertheless, I'll try to give you a small summary of everything that has happened in these past four days or so. Here goes. Remember the Christmas photo shoot at Tatoi the day of Peacock's birthday? These pictures have finally been released. So, for the next year or two, you'll be able to see what a big, happy family the Olympios dynasty is next time you walk into a tourist store and look at the postcards there. Believe me, it truly is a sight you don't want to miss. Yes, I know, this doesn't really sound like an attention-grabber. So, for your consideration, here comes the real juicy stuff. First off, Mother told me yesterday that she's not leaving until she's given Thunder the money that he needs to leave me alone already. Although that doesn't sound bad (quite the contrary, in fact), I can't help thinking that Athena may have been right after all. All that preaching I have been doing about self-respect all these years was mere cloud talk. I'm not worth fifty million euros. Heck, that makes me sound like I'm reducing myself into a freaking object! No, there must be another way for me to get out of this mess. There has to!

Ares is out of the question. Period. Full stop. He's not the solution and never will be. But, since I did mention him, I need to point out here that we still don't talk to one another. I nearly texted him about that... girl... once or twice, but luckily gave up before I even started. I won't give him the satisfaction of knowing I can't live without him. Damn well I can! And I'll prove it, both to him and to myself. Besides, I'm not the one on the wrong side here. So why would I relent? I don't care how long he'll take to figure it out. If he loves me, he'll realize it soon enough.

Oh gosh, I hate my life...

In the meantime, Lydia has been tasked with finding the identity of that... Eos. He obviously sent me that message to test me. Well, if he can play dirty, so can I. I know, this isn't normally part of Lydia's job but she knows just which people to call. So there you have it.

Then we have everyone's favourite double act that is Thunder and Peacock. Rumour has it that they have had yet another fight and are now giving each other the silent treatment. Surprising enough, a woman is to blame for that. But don't start rubbing your hands in anticipation for yet another juicy scandal. Everyone in the Royal Court thinks that I'm this woman. Well, I beg to differ. I think that Mother is the one to blame here, but don't tell her I told you that.

And finally, here come all the supporting players: Anchises is still on stand-by, waiting for me to give him the next instructions, the rest of my family go on with their lives as expected, that _Gossip_ article did cause a bit of a fuss and here I am, about to look the best that I have in the longest while.

So, without further ado, I welcome you all to the grandest royal occasion in all the land. It's the greatest show you've ever seen: bright tiaras, lavish jewels, and the most gorgeous floor-length dresses and ball gowns you've ever seen. (And yes, contrary to common belief, those are two different kinds of formal wear. Don't make me go into great detail because I can give you an entire lecture on that).

Oooh, wait! I almost skipped the best part yet. This will be Mama Rose's first-ever public appearance before the Greek press the longest while. She's nervous as heck, but she still manages to look far calmer than me for some reason. Who am I kidding? The Greek press is child's play compared to the American one and they adore her over there in the US. Plus, she realized that, since the King (who's also her ex-husband) has given her a personal invite, she has no choice but to endure the press. Oh, well. It'll be fun to watch how Peacock will deal with it, though. Bet all you want that she'll try to avoid her at all costs.

As a matter of fact, Mother has been trying to do that with Ares. She downright refuses to talk to him, even just a little. Look, I get it, she doesn't approve of him and she's trying to wake me up from my slumber about him sooner rather than later. Yes, I know, hooking up with him has been the greatest mistake I've ever made. But I can't help it. You know how those things are. You do them once, you want to do them again. And again. And again.

For heaven's sake, Aphrodite, wake up already! Here you are, in your room, with your entire 'pretty-me-up' team at your beck and call and you keep wasting your time with such irrelevant thoughts! So, stop it, sit back, relax, and enjoy the damn show. After all, it's not every day that you get to wear your favourite tiara, is it?

Alright, then. I know what to do. I'll show you around! I mean, that's supposedly what I have been doing quite a lot lately anyway, isn't it? So, my hairstylist is standing right in front of me, with his face so close to mine that it would be damn awkward wasn't he getting paid for it. "This has to be my favourite item in your entire collection," he says, putting his thumb on the dimple of my chin and his index finger between my eyebrows. Then he moves his thumb to where my finger is and, likewise, his finger moves to my hair. It looks like he's actually flirting with me in the most awful way imaginable, but that's not what he's doing. Believe it or not, he's actually trying to count. This is the most essential part of the process of rocking a tiara. He moves his fingers this way so he can find the exact spot on the top of my head where the tiara should be placed. He has to be very careful and very gentle. Place the tiara slightly to the left or to the right, disaster will occur, the world will fall apart, and Thunder will get mad.

And we don't want that, I guess.

Now, since I mentioned that, here are a few more lessons on how to put on a tiara the right way. First, your hair should have been left unwashed for a day, no conditioner used, and lacquered before you put on the tiara. This way, you will have a better grip and the tiara won't look dull. It's the shiniest of all your accessories. It has to be nothing short of bright.

What next... It has to suit your facial shape and your hair colour. I think it's pretty easy to understand why. Pointy tiaras are an absolute no-go for long faces because then you'll end up with a far longer face than the one you already have. On the other hand, a round face doesn't need a round tiara. So now you know the trick: if you have a long face, go for a short tiara and if you have a round face, go for the long ones. (This "match the opposites" rule sometimes applies to fashion too, but that's a story for another time.) In the case of inherited tiaras though, which are the ones you'll find us wearing the most, the first rule doesn't always apply. Yes, we do buy new ones which don't always belong to the royal vault (that is, we can sell them if we've grown tired of them), but we can't keep on buying new tiaras for every single royal occasion we happen to attend. Do you even know how much they cost?!

Anyway, as I was saying, the Rose Crystal is an inherited tiara. Plus, it's definitely much smaller than my face and voila, I strove for perfection. Before I wore it in public for the first time though, I had to have the velvet-covered base changed. My great-grandmother who I think used to wear it a lot as well had dark hair and so she had put a brownish base to it. But that colour would look odd on blond hair and so I kindly asked the royal jeweler to change it. And now we're here.

Next rule... Make sure that the tiara has a long and oval frame. It feels lighter this way. Round ones might look classier, but they are guaranteed to give you a headache for days. (By the way, the Rose Crystal is round... Whoops... Oh, well. I guess now I have an excuse to avoid my responsibilities for the next two days.) Also, if you want to make sure that they'll frame your face the way they're supposed to, place them on a table and make sure that they almost touch it. If they do, they're good.

And back to the hair. You can't just wear it in a ponytail, put on a tiara, and you're good to go. Oh, no. Tiaras need big hair in order to look pretty. Especially the long and/or very lavish ones. If you want to wear your own tiara with your hair down or if you have short hair, make sure they have volume, but please, do yourself a favour and don't look like you've come straight out of the 1980s... The world can't afford this kind of monstrosity anymore. If you prompt to wear your long hair down, just pull the sides back over the ends of the tiara or just cover the them with your own hair somehow. It won't look out of place on your head this way. Plus, curls are your best friend in this case (soft or otherwise). They can add a nice little romantic feel to the whole look.

What more... tiaras are pretty sensitive works of art and they can break, so that's why you must make sure your hairstyle fits the tiara and not the other wary around. The tiara is supposed to be the cherry on top when it comes to your appearance and, well, you'll surely want the rest of the cake to match.

(Geez, I'm so not good with metaphors...)

But yeah, purchasing and repairing tiaras is rather costly. Especially if they're a good hundred years old. So just make sure you take good care of them. Oh, and one more thing: fine thread hat elastic is your new best friend. All those tips I gave you about your hair do work, but if you want to make sure that the tiara will stay on your head, you can sew the tiara into the back of your hairstyle using that kind of elastic. That works better with chignons than it does with hair down, but I use it anyway. It's better to be safe than sorry when it comes to those things.

A few more tips and tricks. Um... Well, traditionally, royal women get their first tiaras when they get married. The British actually stick to this rule to this day, but this firm is kinda stuck to the Middle Ages still when it comes to protocol and tradition. But us more modern societies have changed the rules and declare that all born-into princesses get to wear their first tiara once they've turned eighteen. It actually makes you eager to grow up, as you can imagine. Eileithyia has been allowed to wear hers since last year and she's still pretty excited about it, much to Hebe and Rhode's dismay, who just can't wait to turn eighteen and get their very first tiara. It'll be fun when Rhode turns eighteen, actually. Hebe will be fifteen then and girls at that age can be pretty vain and too focused on looks and appearances. Plus, she'll still be Peacock's daughter. So you can guess how things will turn out.

There's also the general assumption that tiaras can be worn only after six p.m. because they are part of a formal wear. That is true, but there are some exceptions to this rule as well. Royal weddings, for instance, may have a dress code that requires tiaras and gowns to be worn on day time so you have no other choice. But you may wear your tiara without a sash and your honours. If the occasion calls for it. It's too complicated for me to explain in detail how it works, but I did happen to attend a few awards shows where the organizers asked me to wear a tiara but not my sash and honours. Basically, just stick to the dress code. It can save your life.

Wait, what? Have I not told you where we keep them? Damn, sorry. My bad. First off, as I said, we do make a distinction between the items that belong to the crown jewels collection and those that we own privately. All of them are more often than not kept in a vault at one of the Palaces that we own (I won't tell you which one for security reasons). You may imagine them be beautifully stored on satin fabrics etc but this is so not the case. They are actually kept in boxes and drawers for additional security. But some of my own private jewels are kept at a vault in a bank - again, I won't tell you which one. It might seem impractical but, hey, I'd much rather be safe than sorry. To make matters worse, every time I want to wear one of them, they arrive in a bulletproof car accompanied by two police officers, two men of my own security detail, and the royal jeweler because she's the only one I trust to take care of them. It might seem a bit too much for you but, hey, those jewels are worth hundreds of thousands of euros. Millions too, even. It's definitely far more than your parents have spent on you. Don't look at me, though. I seem to be the exception to the rules quite a lot lately.

Oh, and one more thing about tiaras before I forget. The Queen always gets to have the biggest and most lavish collection of all the tiaras and the former Queen passes them down to her successor, but she can keep a few for her own use or borrow from the royal vault. Lower-ranking royals (like Princesses Eris, Eileithyia, or Amphitrite) may borrow from the Queen's collection if they want, as long as they don't wear the ones that the Queen wears the most. Different rules may apply to other royal families but in ours, we're stuck with Peacock and she's not one to share much. Mine is the second largest and most of the pieces in my collection are private gifts, so once I do become Queen, I'll get to wear the jewels in the royal vault as well, making my collection the largest one there is. So there you go, that's all you need to know about tiaras.

Ooh, I mentioned sashes and honours already. Now, take a deep breath and fasten your seat belts, because this is going to be a long and complicated ride (don't say I didn't warn you.)

Let's start from the sashes. They're part of the insignia that shows that one belongs in an order of chivalry or merit. Basically, they're an order of honour and every country has to have some sort of order, even if they don't have a monarchy. I won't get into much detail over who is allowed to get what and how so I'll just stick to that: you can get it if you're a citizen of the country that awards you the order, a civilian or a royal, or a foreign official who is awarded an order of a country they're visiting as a means of friendship. Now, there is one sash for each order and each country has their own, unique ones, so it's easy to tell them apart just by looking at the honour.

Greece has seven orders in total, ranked here from highest to lowest: the Order of the Redeemer (the oldest decoration - an indigo sash with white borders), the Order of King Uranus I (given to royal men only - a black sash with white and red striped borders), the Order of Queen Gaia (given to royal women only - a black sash with white and grey striped lines on the borders), the Order of King Cronus I (a burgundy sash, plain and simple), the Order of Honour (an indigo sash with yellow borders), the Order of the Phoenix (orange sash with dark blue borders), and the Order of Beneficence (yellow sash with blue borders - restricted to women only).

Each of these orders also has five classes, again ranked here from lowest to highest: Grand Cross, Grand Commander, Commander, Gold Cross, Silver Cross. Yes, each grade has different rules of how you should wear a the sash, badge, and star. Actually, the star is only reserved for the two highest grades. The recipients of the Grand Cross wear the sash from the right shoulder and the star on the left chest, whereas the Grand Commanders wear the badge on a bow tie and the star on the left chest. Commanders simply wear the badge on a bow tie, Gold and Silver Crosses wear the badge on a ribbon on the left chest (no sash for them, poor things).

Does this all sound a bit overwhelming? Well, that's not even half of it.

So, the badge of every order is pinned at the end of the sash (hanging from the bow below the hip) and the stars are pinned under the chest (for the women) or on the jacket (for the men). But they're not pinned on the sash. If, say, the sash is placed to the right side, then the silver pin that is the star of the order is placed to the left side. But, don't get into a headache just yet. Whether the sash is placed on the right or the left shoulder and location of the pins depends on the Order, the grade, and the country. Some have similar-looking sashes (because that's only how inspired you can be...) and you can tell them apart because they have a different badge and width and are also worn differently. Now, that little pin that you do see us wear on the sash and below the shoulder sometimes... is actually not that big a deal. No, really. It doesn't mean anything. It's can either be a random pin that you bought at a jeweler's store or part of the royal jewels. But we only ever wear it to keep the sash in place. And if we don't want to wear it to the front of the dress, we wear it to the back of our dresses. There!

Phew! So, the three orders that are named after my ancestors are the dynastic ones, meaning that they can be awarded as a personal gift from the King to the people that bestowed good service upon him. More often than not, those people are his very own relatives because they're family and who doesn't trust his own family (tee-hee). Every royal family out there has such dynastic orders. They're actually considered to be a part of the cultural patrimony of each royal family. The rest are state orders, which means that they're not bestowed by dynasties but by monarch. I can't tell you exactly what the difference is because I don't know it in detail either and no amount of secret dates with Ares can change that. I'll make your life easier now and simply tell you that There are different orders for men and women. Some are awarded only on either gender and others are for for both. Plus, each time we visit a foreign country, we are often offered those as a gift that also symbolically marks the good relationship and alliance between the two countries. Once we have been awarded it, we must wear the order we received from that country every single time we visit it on official capacity as a display of alliance and friendship. If you don't have any, you are obliged to wear the highest order of your home country. I'll tell you more of that when the right time comes. But let me just say for now that I have an entire collection of those.

Back on home ground. Zeus Almighty has the highest classes of all seven of them. Just because he's the sovereign. That's the case with every monarch out there, by the way. Since I'm the bright future of this country, I have five and Hera only has four. That's how you know I already outrank her.

Actually, every single born-into member of the Royal Family is made Knight Grand Cross of the Order of the Redeemer, whether they're male or female. Triton, Hebe and Rhode will receive that order as well, once they've turned eighteen. As for the married into ones, well... they have to fight for it. Poor Princess Amphitrite has endured this family for almost twenty years and she's stuck with the Order of Queen Gaia. Oh, well.

Damn, I almost forgot. Ares has the Order of King Uranus I and not the Order of the Redeemer. That's what you get when you are adopted into a royal family.

See? Double standards are everywhere with us!

Anyway, one last thing and then we're done with this mess. Some royal families also have this thing called "family orders" which is basically a framed miniature portrait of the current monarch hanging from a bow and which is awarded by the monarch himself (or herself) to members of their royal family. They can always be seen pinned below the left shoulder, regardless of how the sash is worn. But we don't have them in Greece. We have the dynastic orders instead. I don't know whether the one is a consequence of the other and I've never cared to ask, so I guess we're done here.

Now you might be wondering, how come I can explain all those things. Well... For better or worse, two of my half-sisters are eight years old. Hebe has realized only recently that she's a real-life Princess and Niobe is all too excited to be related to one. And since I'm definitely old enough to be a Mama Bear to them both, I teach them those things. Over and over again, until they finally learn them by heart. So there you go.

Back to reality. My hair is styled in a messy Edwardian bun, I am wearing my tiara, my royal blue lace dress looks gorgeous on me and my two maids are just finishing steam-ironing the matching see-through cape and the sash of the Order of the Redeemer. That's an indigo one and yes, I did pick the dress to match the ribbon, thank you very much.

Speaking of, she also insisted I put on the earrings Hephaestus made for me as well. She saw them on my vanity table and she's still far more excited about them than I was. But no, I can't do it. It'd send out the wrong message. He's supposed to be escorting me tonight, so he will make sure to see if I wear them. As a matter of fact, he hasn't communicated with me lately either. I guess that article on _Gossip_ did work it's magic after all. Who knows, I may have finally gotten my chance to get rid of him. Then I won't have to play friends with Athena anymore and my maternal family will get to keep their money.

Could it really have been that easy all along?

My dresser walks up to me, holding the sash. Right behind her, Anna and her assistants hold the cape of the dress and the pins I need. They all wear surgeon's gloves, so that they won't get anything dirty. And, as you would expect, my hairdresser doesn't miss his chance to shine: "Are you ready to become a Majesty, Your Highness?"

"Very funny!" I reply.

Everyone chuckles and I let them help me put them on. Come to think, it's also rather ridiculous. It's just a dress, a long ribbon, and a few shiny accessories. No big deal. And yet... if you put them together, they create something that's almost magical.

Who knows? You may never be too old to believe in fairy tales after all.

* * *

 _The Queen's bedroom, Palace of Tatoi, Acharnai, East Attica_

Amphitrite hugged herself tight. Her white silk kimono robe was too light to keep her warm but she didn't care. She didn't mind the cold. As a matter of fact, she had gotten used to it since her childhood in Naxos. Winters in the Greek islands could be harsh and their inhabitants often lacked oil or firewood for the heating. Her own parents may have been relatively better off than most other families there, yet she could still recall having to share her tiny bed and itchy blanket with her sister, Galatea, so that they wouldn't shiver at nights.

She shouldn't complain. Being a member of the Royal Family had grown her accustomed to luxury. Still, all the privilege in the world couldn't keep her from feeling nostalgic. She did miss her old life sometimes. For one thing, it was simple. People worked hard, they complained about being neglected by the Greek state and were sometimes unable to make ends meet, but they always found ways to be happy. They lived for the day. There was no schedule set for them three months in advance or any official engagements to attend to. Journalists didn't judge their every word, their outfits weren't talked about for days, and the government didn't impose limits on what they could or couldn't do.

Nowadays, every time she went back home, she was treated as some sort of goddess. The girl next door who married the dashing Prince. Her close friends and family, the people she had known her entire life, continued to treat her like the person she had once been. But she could always detect the awe in their stare, as if they still couldn't believe that "their very own" Amphitrite was now famous all over the country.

Truth be told, she had yet to get used to it as well. Perhaps she never would. Who knows, maybe she was too old to play the fairytale princess anymore. But there was no use regretting her choices now. It was too late for that.

Her embellished light blue-grey taffeta ball gown was hanging outside her wooden wardrobe; the Serene Crystal Waterdrop Tiara (which was much smaller than its grand, yet well-fitting name suggested) shone bright in its velvet case, and the Order of Queen Gaia, with its dark blue ribbon with the horizontal blue-and-white border stripes lay on her bed, freshly ironed. Next to it was the star of the Order and a random diamond brooch to keep the sash in place.

Each of those items was part of a perfect whole. And yet... it didn't make sense...

She kept staring at her gown, hoping that it could somehow work its nonexistent magic. It might help her to forget. But, try as she might, the same old thought was constantly coming back to haunt her. _Ares and Aphrodite, Ares and Aphrodite, Ares and Aphrodite..._

How long had this been going on? Why? And if Ares hadn't told her all about it when he was drunk, would she have found out somehow? Would anyone?

Muffled laughter broke the silence, coming from behind the closed door. It was probably her hairdresser. She had asked her team to leave her alone for a while. They had been awfully cheerful while they had been doing her hair and makeup but she couldn't share their joy. It made her feel even more horrible about herself. Normally, she loved being around boisterous people. They oozed liveliness and she adored that. That's why she had married the loudest man she could find, after all.

But now it all felt so... distant... So foreign...

Looking at her freshly manicured nails, she resisted the urge to dig them deep into her skin. She'd always do that when she was nervous. The pain made her weep. Tears helped her calm down.

Not this time. She could clench her teeth until they hurt or bite her bottom lip until it bled, but all she'd end up ruining her makeup. There wasn't enough time for her team to start all over and she'd end up feeling even worse, all because she forced them to fix a damage that could have easily been avoided.

Poseidon hated that attitude. He'd often remind her that some things were simply meant to be broken and that they shouldn't stop them from falling down. Well, of course. That's why he'd apologize to her every single time he had done something wrong. She didn't trust his promises anymore. They were just a desperate attempt to keep together what had been glued back a thousand times over.

The Serene Crystal was one of his many ways to fool her. Same for the diamond bracelet around her right wrist and the matching ring on her left middle finger. She didn't know why she was still wearing them instead of throwing them to his face, like any other woman would've done in her place. She wanted to make sure that he wouldn't stray again perhaps. That's why she had worn his conciliatory gift at Hera's birthday as well. But tonight would be a grander and far more populous affair. If he couldn't prove that he was worth keeping her, she'd leave him and never look back.

It was the night she dreaded the most.

She scoffed. What a fool she was... All those years of being his wife and she still hadn't learned to read the signs. Guilty people behaved in an odd fashion. Either they drew all eyes on them (like her darling Poseidon always did...) or they did their best to disappear, either among the crowd or in the darkest corner of the room.

 _Like Ares..._

In all those years that she had known him, he had become something between an adoptive son and a much younger brother to her. Yet, he still remained very much an enigma. She blamed his secretiveness for that. He had definitely learned from the best...

She clenched her arm tighter. The same old memories were coming back to haunt her. She shook her head and stared at the view from the window, but try as she might, they kept storming in.

 _Since the early years of their marriage, Poseidon would be gone for days, sometimes even weeks on end. "On business," as he'd always say. Amphitrite had no idea why he had to travel all over Europe since her father's business was relatively small, let alone why he had to prolong some of his trips out of the blue. Yet, over time, she had figured out that it was pointless to ask. Poseidon would always give her the same old, bitter answer: "Because I must, Pearl." Each night, as she lay next to Poseidon's cold and empty pillow, a voice inside her kept urging her not to believe him. However, his behaviour always convinced her otherwise. He always gave her the phone numbers of the hotels he'd be staying at in case of an emergency. He never came back home smelling of another woman's perfume and neither did his clothes in the suitcase. As a matter of fact, he was so confident of his own innocence that he even let Amphitrite unpack every single time. On purpose. He'd hide gifts in there for her to find. Expensive perfumes in shiny gift wrap, lavish jewels in heavy cases, even new dresses and lingerie with the price tag still attached. "To make up for the lost time," he'd whisper in her ear, holding her close and sending shivers down her spine_

 _Every single time._

 _Yet her own family had a different opinion. Her mother, Doris, insisted that she had better take the children and come back to Naxos before it was too late. "He leaves you on your own, with a toddler in one arm and a baby in the other and you have to take care of them all by yourself, while he just... disappears. What sort of a husband treats his wife like that?" Even Nerites, her beloved only brother and staunchest supporter, dubbed him "the fraud", a nickname that her sisters were also quick to adopt. But they didn't have any proof either. Their suspicions came primarily from what they'd read about him in the press and what they'd heard from gossip._

 _Until that fateful day arrived in May. She had attended a two-day international conference for the environment in Athens, both due to her role as Princess Poseidon of Greece and on her capacity as the president and co-founder of_ Hellenic Seas Initiative _, a non-profit foundation for marine conservation. She was so happy to go back home that she couldn't stop making plans about dinner during the three-hour drive to Porto Heli. After all, it wasn't every day that she got to cook for her own family..._

 _Once she stepped into the living room, she noticed Poseidon's jacket and tie first thing. They had been thrown on the sofa in a hurry. Was he home early then? But why hadn't he told her? Normally, he never left his office before six in the afternoon unless he had fallen ill or had somewhere else to go. Another "sudden" business trip for instance, as was the case quite a lot recently. But then, she spotted the bottle of Chardonnay on the dining table. That was odd... He never opened that one unless they had guests over. She looked around her. Two empty glasses of wine stood on the kitchen counter nearby. As she held them in her hands to carry them to the sink, she noticed the marks. Red lipstick._

 _The glass fell to the floor. Her hands were trembling; her heart was beating wildly. Then she noticed it. A pair of black high heels, right by the armchair._

 _Could it... be?_

 _She didn't think twice. She rushed upstairs at once, thankful that her aides had been dismissed for the rest of the day and that her bodyguard was waiting outside, as he had been instructed to do. She entered their own bedroom first. It was empty. Even the bed was untouched. In the blur of the moment, she searched the children's rooms. Nothing there either, thank goodness. Then the guest rooms. Same._

 _Then it hit her. If Poseidon had even the tiniest sense of decency about him, he'd use the one room in the entire house in which his wife never entered._

 _The one that the housekeeper occupied._

 _Conveniently enough, today was her day off..._

 _Not wasting a second, she rushed to the other side of the mansion, swearing at the complicated architecture of the place. Her heart was beating so wildly that she thought it'd break any moment now._

A bad dream _, she kept saying to herself._ Please let it all be a bad dream...

 _She wished that she was back to one of the guest rooms at the Royal Palace, that Hera was waiting for her in the dining room and that Hebe was also there, eager to give her the small drawing she had prepared for her._

 _But she wasn't. She was touching those walls, smelling that smell... There was no mistaking it. She was home._

 _And that's what made it all so hard to believe..._

 _Closing her eyes, she took deep breaths. She was standing outside the room, yet she couldn't bring herself to enter. The giggles woke her up from her slumber. No, she wasn't dreaming. Poseidon's hoarse laughter was heard. She knew it well..._

 _She opened the door at once. There he was. Curled on top of a woman with stained makeup, who was laughing too loudly for her own good..._

 _Her darling husband noticed her of course... He looked shocked for a change. "Amphitrite?!"_

 _She didn't say a word. Leaving the door wide open, she turned her back to him and left. He called her name. She wouldn't look back. He was running after her, trying to explain, but she seemed to have grown deaf to the sound of his own voice. Finding an empty suitcase, she made her way to the children's rooms and began to throw some of Rhode and Triton's clothes in it. They'd for now. But if they needed any more, there were plenty of stores in Naxos that they could visit._

 _Poseidon continued to chase after her, despite her many attempts to avoid him. He even tried to hold her, to make her see his face, but she kept pushing him back. And just like that, she stormed out of the house._

 _Doris was right. She should have left before it was too late._

 _She didn't close the front door behind her. On purpose. Before she walked up to the SUV, she looked back one last time. Poseidon was nowhere to be seen. Naturally. It wouldn't do for him to be seen in such an... inappropriate state._

 _Her security agent was stunned to see her. He was waiting by her car, holding her suitcase and waiting for her orders. But he knew better than to ask the wrong questions. Neither did he put up a fight when the Princess told him she'd take the wheel, despite her trembling hands. First, they drove to Rhode and Triton's private school at a nearby town, an hour's drive away. He noticed how she was driving a lot faster than her normal speed. Like a wary driving instructor, he figured that he ought to make sure that she wouldn't do anything crazy. He could guess what had played out in there._

 _There was nothing more dangerous or frightening than a woman who had been hurt and deceived..._

 _Deep down, though, he was glad that she had finally left the Prince. His infidelities had been an open secret among their staff for years. Yet, much as they all felt sorry for her, they never told her a thing. They shouldn't mingle into their personal business and, besides, as far as they were concerned, she might have known all along. She was definitely far from stupid. And Poseidon didn't deserve her either. She was too good for him._

 _Rhode and Triton were so thrilled to see their mother again that they fell straight into her arms. Their classmates would have scolded their own parents for picking them up instead of letting them take the school bus back home, but Poseidon had been so volatile these past three days that they couldn't wait for Amphitrite to return. Drawing a deep breath, their mother made the announcement. "We'll be staying at grandma's for a few days. Your father isn't coming." Both children shocked. As far as they were concerned, both Doris and Rhea lived a few good hours away from the mainland. Yet, the more questions they asked, the louder Amphitrite turned on the radio. She'd explain everything later, when she'd be calm enough. Their agent wouldn't tell them a thing either. He was busier calling the Princess' staff to inform them on the sudden change of plans and the captain in the Prince Couple's service to tell him to wait for them at port._

 _Two hours later, they reached the port at the town of Patra and boarded their yacht. Amphitrite had told her bodyguard that he was free to go but he persisted. His job was to make sure that she and her children were safe. He even tried to keep Rhode and Triton entertained during their seven hours on board, while Amphitrite locked herself in her cabin, asking not to be disturbed. No matter how many board games they played, they kept asking him the same question over and over: why did they suddenly have to leave? Yet, all he could tell them was that their parents had had a nasty fight._

 _The night had already fallen by the time they docked at the town of Naxos. Doris was already waiting for them on the pier. She didn't say a word either. She simply held her daughter in her arms and let her cry on her shoulder._

Odd, how some things never really seemed to change... Seven months ago, she had spent hours on her own, trapped in the void of her own thoughts. In either case, what happened was no fault of her own. Yet, pointless as it was, she couldn't help blaming herself.

Sometimes, there just was no other ways to cope...

Ares and Aphrodite were different though. Their... romance (god, what a disgusting word!) had been blooming under everyone's noses for years. Still, no one had suspected a thing, let alone tried to stop it.

 _Poor Hera_ , she thought. Her best friend would be devastated to find out the truth. But she ought to. She was Ares' mother for heaven's sake! Besides, she was the only person in the family who could keep the two apart. Poseidon had been trying to convince his wife that doing so was crazy and that she had better forget all about it. Easier said than done, even for him. For the past four days, he'd wake up in the middle of the night and ask her again and again if she was certain that she'd heard Ares right.

Of course she was! She still remembered their conversation vividly. Ares had been so drunk and unable to think clearly that he had admitted to doing things he'd never claim had he been sober. He had burst into tears the moment she had embraced him, trying to soothe his pain. After a few comforting words, he had told her everything. He had gotten involved with a girl called Eos because he had wanted to get back at a woman that had hurt him a lot. _Aphrodite..._ He had uttered her name with so much sorrow and disgust that left no room for doubt. There was no mistaking it... He loved her a lot... She had asked him who that woman was exactly, in the vain hope that it might be someone who shared her name. After all, she wasn't the only Aphrodite in the land... But he had persisted. It had been her.

 _His very own sister...!_

Amphitrite clenched her fist. She had not slept well the night before either. Once more, she had dreamed about Ares and Aphrodite's dance on Hera's birthday. Their bodies had touched - a little too much. They had looked into each other's eyes like they had been the only two people left on earth. They had giggled like naughty little children, whispered to each other's ears one too many secrets, even held each other's hands... The other guests - the outsiders - had thought it was awfully sweet, another sign of their particular closeness and love for one another. But little did they know, those words could have a thousand different meanings...

But... what about Hephaestus? Was he just a cover? She wouldn't be surprised, to be honest. Then again, why him? Why not someone more handsome, who wouldn't raise any eyebrows once his betrothal to Aphrodite would become official? Could it be her niece's own way to ensure that Ares wouldn't get any jealous? And that marriage proposal she had received? Was that the reason Dione was back in Greece? Did Zeus and Hera stop talking again because of her? Or was something else going on?

She hid her face in her hands and let out a loud groan. So many questions... They could drive her mad if she let them.

Thankfully, someone knocked on the door. "Ma'am? Are you alright?"

She recognized her dresser's voice. That woman was the most talkative member of her team. Amphitrite smiled. She had hired her because she never failed to make her laugh. The perfect antidote to thinking. Perhaps the time had come for her to get dressed. Odd as it sounded, she liked having people get her dressed. It took her back to her wedding day, when her sisters and her friends had helped her put on her gown, singing all the while.

But she had been a different person back then. Luckily for her, she wasn't as naive anymore. Or so she liked to think.

There was another knock at the door. "Yes," she said fixing her robe. "Do come in!"

* * *

 _5:15 P.M._

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

"Alright, Your Highness. You can open your eyes now."

Ooh, here it comes. The moment of the truth. The deciding verdict. The final countdown.

Where on earth is a freaking drum roll when you need it?

Aaand here we go. The first thing I see is my dresser, standing beside the full-body mirror and beaming with pride as if she's just created her greatest masterpiece. Well, tell you what, I don't really blame her. This dress feels incredibly soft and it looks even more gorgeous on me than it does on paper.

Ladies and gentlemen, we've done it again! My royal blue gown matches just perfectly with the indigo sash of the Order of the Redeemer, the Rose Crystal Tiara, and the rest of my jewels: a big diamond brooch with a few blue sapphires for detail and long diamond earrings resembling a rose with its leaves. No rings, no bracelets. The dress is already grand enough as it is and I don't want to look like a walking jewelry box. And judging by the smiles on everyone's faces right now, it was the best idea I have had in quite a while.

One of my dresser's assistants walks up to me, holding two long white gloves. I had asked for those to be prepared as well, just in case I might wish to wear them after all. But, um... I renewed my French manicure this morning and, well, it'd be a pity if I kept it a hidden from the world.

"Oh, I won't need them. Thank you."

She simply nods and walks away. I'm pretty sure she's blaming me for the extra work I made her do but, hey, sometimes you have to make sacrifices for your art.

So, I seem to be good and ready to go. The dress and the cape are where they should be, all the insignia are pinned on me, I adorn all of the jewelry I'm supposed to wear, and I even have my shoes on. Don't you dare forget about those, for they're the most significant accessory you own, believe it or not. Sadly, you won't get to see much of them tonight unless I lift my skirt, but thank heavens I bought them. They look too good for me not to own them and, besides, I have never owned royal blue lace heels, believe it or not. Talk about professionalism though, the Greek fashion house that my dresser worked with in order to create my gown also made sure to make the matching shoes. Why? Because it's couture. We wouldn't have it any other way. Simple as that.

Even my hairstylist agrees that we've done a pretty grand job. "You'll be the belle of the ball at Zappeion Megaron tonight!"

What? Oh, sorry, I must have forgotten to mention that tiny little detail. Yes, I know that I told you that the New Year's Eve Gala normally takes place at the Royal Palace but um... this isn't always the case. Well, look, traditionally, it does. But turns out that Zeus Almighty thought he'd go back to being modern for a change and so he decided to host the party in Athens' most famous spot after the Parthenon. But he wouldn't even dare to host it up there for three reasons: first, the Greek government wouldn't let us (high heels are actually forbidden up there because they destroy the ancient ruins); second, the Acropolis is damn difficult to climb; and third, Athena wouldn't let him. It's actually her favourite spot in the entire country and you bet that she treats it like the apple of her eye.

Speaking of, I don't know why they didn't tell me about it sooner. They must have thought that I get driven around everywhere, so I don't have to know where the heck I'm going most of the time. Let's just overlook the metaphor about my disastrous love life in there for a second and, well, had I known about it sooner, Stupid, I wouldn't have picked a dress that flows nicely when I climb down stairs...

But! Don't you worry just yet! Zappeion Megaron is right at the heart of Athens. For real. It's located in the National Gardens of Athens, south of the Hellenic Parliament and west to the Panathenaic Stadium. Plus, it's massive. I think it must be around three or five times the size of the Royal Palace, or so I was told once. Thunder and Peacock must have invited over a thousand guests, from politicians, diplomats, foreign ambassadors, and military officials to academics, celebrities, businessmen, and everyone who has been honoured by Zeus Almighty in service to the country. So, in short, everyone in there will be wearing Orders. Yes, the Petalas family too. Just stop reminding me about it for a few seconds.

Back to Zappeion. It's a neoclassical building constructed in 1888 in order to be used during the 1896 Olympic Games, either as a stadium or an Olympic Village but I can't remember right now. At some point, in the 1930s or so, it even served as the headquarters of the Athens Radio Station but for the past forty years or so it's been used exclusively for meetings, conferences, and ceremonies. The party will take place in the big round atrium with the Corinthian columns all around us. More on that later, when I'll come back to playing the (rather fancily dressed) tourist guide because I'll have no other choice.

You really need to thank Anna for giving you a break. She just walked in to announce that Mother is here. And as you would expect, everyone rushed out of the room with the speed of light because Anna looked stern and that could only mean that Mama Rose would like to talk to me in private. For your information, Mother is dressed far more simply than me. She didn't have enough time to order a custom made gown and so she asked for a simple ready-to-wear silver Ellie Saab gown which she had bought a few months back and which she was planning to wear at her parents' New Year party in Stansworth to be transferred all the way from London. It actually had its own seat in the helicopter. Pretty sure it wore a head-speaker too, just in case.

For some reason, though, she forgot that she had to ask for jewelry to be brought along too. Oh, well, don't you worry. I came to her rescue for a change. Since she's wearing the light yellow sash with dark blue borders of the Order of the Beneficence (more on that later), I figured we'd play around with the blue there. The sash looks terrible on sparkling silver, but we did try to work our way through it somehow. Conveniently enough, I own an entire collection of jewels with blue sapphires and ivory diamonds. So, she's wearing a big ring on her left hand which I bought from Harrods (that also suits her red nails just perfectly), a Cartier bracelet, a pair of long Channel earrings which, truth be told, I forgot I even owned, a brooch that belonged to a parure that Queen Gaia owned and which somehow got lost, or so legend has it anyway, and, finally, a Cartier necklace that I had be converted into a tiara. Mother does have one, but it's in a deposit box in New York. They couldn't bring it all the way from there because tiaras are delicate and it might have broken. That's why we decided to go with the far safer choice here. My jeweler hated me because the Cartier necklace wasn't made with that in mind but he did his wonders. Truth be told, it would have looked better if Mother hadn't cut her hair and styled it in a bun, like another sane person would've done, but nevertheless, the tiara looks great on her. So, _voilà_. Now you know how to create a colourful harmony through this whole mess that is Mother's appearance.

Which is why I'm telling you: fashion is fun because it's versatile. You'll be surprised by how many endless choices you have to wear and combine. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise.

Now, about the Order. Its name sounds grand, but don't be fooled. It's actually the lowest one that Zeus Almighty can hand out. Yes, I know, I think she's the only Greek Duchess out there and worth far more than that, but let's be real. King Cronus was her father-in-law and Peacock's her successor. Considering that she's still my mother, that she's done a lot more about charity that my beloved stepmother would even dream of, and the fact that she has redeemed her Greek nationality which she acquired when she married Thunder, I'd say she's done pretty well for herself. Wait until I ascend the throne, though. I'll definitely give her a higher one. It'll be the least I could do.

Anyway, back to the main plot. Mother looks nervous and it's not my fault. No, really. Turns out she was just on the phone to Uncle Aias, who told her that they could find a way to combine Athena's plan with the one they came up with for my sake.

"He's also in talks with his advisors and associates these days to draft out an agreement which Mr. Petalas will be unable to turn down," she adds. "They'll try to convince them to sell off all of their assets and investments to the Oceanides Business Group and at the same time, they'll find a way to shut the door to their faces and leave them bankrupt eventually. It's very, very complicated, but they'll find their way around it somehow." I can tell that she's got a very bad gut feeling about it all, much as she refuses to let it show. Taking my face in her hands, she takes a very careful look at me. "Tonight, Mr. Petalas might come to talk to you. Whatever he tells to you, do remember this: you are far more important and powerful than they'll ever be. And they depend on you as much as your father depends on them."

Oh, dear she really is nervous! She wouldn't sound so... threatening if she didn't feel the need to protect me. But, for the life of me, I can't tell if it's because of the whole Petalas family thing or the offer.

"Why don't we go shopping?" I ask, taking us both by surprise. It looks like we both need it, though. "The stores open again on January third. We'll make the necessary arrangements and have the stores we want all to ourselves. Think about it! We'll buy new outfits, take each other out for some coffee... We'll just hang out and chime in the new year like we used to do!"

She scoffs. It's a yes then. But her mobile phone ruins the perfect moment with its perfect sense of timing. Mother takes it out of her matching silver clutch immediately and furrows her brow the minute she looks at the screen. Oh, boy. What has happened now?

"It's your father." Just what I needed to hear right now... "He says he wants to talk to me after midnight. In private."

"It... It can't be about the offer, can it?"

She sighs, reading the message again. "I actually hope so." She takes my hand in hers. "The sooner we're done with it, the better. For all of us."

I fiddle with my cape a little. Mother asks me what's wrong. "What if..." I hesitate. "What if he turns it down?"

She frowns. "This is your father we're talking about, darling. Has he ever said 'no' to more power?" I chuckle. She holds me close, careful not to ruin my hair. "Nevertheless, you shouldn't let anything ruin your good mood tonight. If he doesn't accept, we'll find another way. There's no such thing as an unsolvable problem after all."

I hope so, Mother. I really, really do. But you never know how other people think. Especially not someone like Thunder...

One thing's for sure though. He constantly keeps you at the edge of your seat, doesn't he?

Well, then, I guess I do have a New Year's resolution ready already. Make sure he produces and directs his very first political thriller. He'd be great in it.

Besides, it'd be a pity if the fifty million euros got wasted for the well-being of Peacock's family and not be invested for something more useful now, wouldn't it? I mean, Mother founded the Gynae Foundation with nearly the same amount of money.

Damn you, Thunder! I could've rescued humanity if only you'd let me!

Oh, well. Knowing him, he'll play matchmaker to me sooner or later either way. I guess I know what favour I'll ask of him then.

Never a boring moment with him, huh?

* * *

 _Hebe's room, Private Quarters, Royal Palace_

The nanny could tell that her little Princess had been out of sorts lately. Especially today. All the previous years, she acted like any other child would if they had to wear a pretty dress and attend a fairy tale-like dinner. She wouldn't stop about it for days and she'd even drive everyone crazy asking them if she was now old enough to wear a tiara herself. Good for her, her nanny had bought her a fake yet fancy one, so that she could get her to wear the dress that the Queen had picked for her. But Hebe didn't like the plain dresses that Her Majesty always picked out for her. To quote her, the were either pink or blue or green or yellow or purple. All of her sisters, from Aphrodite to Eileithyia, wore outfits that were "more fun", with lots of different patterns, fabrics, and layers. Plus, they had many different hairstyles and adorned fancy jewelry. Yet, for some reason, Hebe hadn't mentioned them at all tonight.

Although her nanny had studied child psychology in training, she didn't need to look back on the things she had learned to figure out what the cause was. Something happened between the King and the Queen again and they're going through another frosty time in their marriage. Although she had studied children's psychology in training, it didn't really take a genius to realize that Hebe's change in attitude was influenced by her the way her parents treated each other again. Secretly, she felt sorry for her. She, too, had heard the rumours surrounding her conception and birth. Some staffers who were around during that time were talkative enough to inform her. But she didn't care about Their Majesties. Their marriage was between them and them alone. She was getting paid to take care of their youngest daughter and she had better do the job right. Her Majesty was very strict when it came to their children's upbringing and Hebe was definitely no exception. Yet they had developed a particular closeness and she often had to remind Hebe not to call her "Mommy", especially in front of the Queen.

Yet, sometimes, it seemed inevitable not to be mother. Tonight was one of these case. As she was styling the Princess' hair with a curler (another one of the Queen's orders), she decided to ask her straight out what the matter was.

Hebe scoffed. "My parents fought again. I heard Father yell."

"Were you eavesdropping again?"

Though she didn't mean to sound threatening in any way, Hebe perceived it so. Without warning, she tried to face her nanny, but she put her back in her place since a strand of hair was still caught up in the curler. "I didn't want to do it," Hebe protested. "I promise! I was just... out of that door?"

"And what were you doing outside your parents' chambers?"

She hesitated. "I was playing with Elsa!"

That was the name of the porcelain doll that Aphrodite had given her for her fifth birthday. Despite the many reminders that it was meant to be a decorative item, Hebe carried it around with her at all times. She had even given it that name because it sounded regal enough. Even now, as she was getting ready, she refused to let go of it. Again, the nanny could tell why.

"Were you showing her around again? I'm pretty sure she knows the place as well as you do by now."

"I was just telling her that I'd love to have a pet dog or a cat but Mother is allergic to cats and she doesn't like dogs and how I should ask Aphrodite or Athena to get me one on my next birthday but then Mother will get angry and Father will take it away from me."

The nanny smiled. Hebe had been talking about getting a dog since Aphrodite had adopted Blanche. It might have been the fact that she let her play with her every single time they saw the friendly Samoyed but Their Majesties had been absolute when it came to pets. It was a big no. But still, their conversation was far from over.

"Let me guess. You were hoping that your parents might hear you and change their minds?"

"Exactly!" Hebe let out. "But they kept yelling." She turned around. This time, the nanny pulled the curler away to make sure the Princess wouldn't touch it by accident. "Mommy, why do grown-ups keep shouting?"

She sighed. "It's what they do. Especially married couples. They can't agree on anything and they are too stubborn to change their minds. So, they shout hoping to make each other listen to what they want to tell them."

"But if they keep shouting like that, won't their throats hurt?"

She chuckled. "Sometimes they do. If they can keep calm enough." She turned Hebe around again. Her hair wasn't finished yet. "But you should not have eavesdropped. It's not right, especially for a young lady like you."

Hebe held on to Elsa tighter. "I don't want Mother to leave again."

The Nanny didn't know what to say. She could still recall how devastated the Princess was at the time the Queen had announced her so-called illness. Not only had she had trouble sleeping, but she also kept asking everyone if her mother would divorce her father. She had heard about that in school and some of her classmates came from broken homes. Although her own parents wouldn't even consider it for it'd ruin their image, it was still devastating to think that a young girl like her would even come to that conclusion.

With another sigh, she went back to curling the little one's hair. It was amazing, how dysfunctional this family was and how they had to sacrifice their own happiness for the sake of the country. But it reflected badly on the children. For a moment, she wondered whether that was also the reason Hebe's siblings also ended up how they ended up. They were traumatized for sure, especially the Crown Princess. But when they were children, they would find comfort in each other during such times. Hebe was on her own. Ares and Aphrodite may have treated her like they were her own parents instead, but still, she was the King and the Queen's daughter. She had to endure their disaster of a marriage every single day of her life, hence her need to cling on to the things and the people she loved the most.

 _Poor girl,_ the nanny thought. _My poor, poor girl..._

The Crown Princess was right, then. "Monarchs and parenthood do not mix."

 _Not at all..._

* * *

 _Athenian Drawing Room, Private Quarters, Royal Palace_

Taking a sip of his vodka, Zeus scanned the room. Even though he hardly praised Hera for anything, he had to admit that she had done a marvelous job redecorating it back in the day. She had been criticized for importing furniture from her parents' apartment in Paris instead of hiring Greek carpenters for the job but that room deserved to look more European than Hellenic. It had an odd kind of harmony that way. A big vertical golden mirror above the marble fireplace reflected the light of the crystal chandelier; there were two sitting rooms on either side of the room, one with a mahogany and another with an oak glass coffee table. The drapes and the wide carpet matched the red-and-gold sofas and Chippendale upholstered armchairs.

Without a doubt, it was a place fit for a king. Named for the city of Athens to preserve the Greek element, it was the only part of the Private Quarters that the nation could get a glimpse of. Over the years, foreign guests, royal relatives, members of the government, as well as ambassadors (both Greek and foreign) had been entertained in its regal opulence.

But that had not always been the case. As long as he could remember the Royal Palace, it was a drawing room only in name. When he was little, it would be used as a makeshift warehouse, where they kept all the items they could store at the attic of Tatoi. After the Monarchy was restored in 1974 and the family returned to Greece, following a six-year-exile in Rome and in London, the Private Quarters had been left locked and abandoned. They had found everything in its place, as if they had never left.

Apparently, no one had seemed to care much about the Royal Family's impact to the country's long history and they had not sorted them through, let alone take better care of them. Zeus could still recall how happy he had been when he and his siblings had decided to open those boxes. It had been like a treasure hunt. They had found their mother's wedding gown and veil, portraits of their ancestors they had never seen before, and various other items that they had shared among them to decorate their own homes - a few antiquities included. Without a doubt though, his favourite discovery had been the ring he was currently wearing on his right hand. Legend had it that it had belonged to his great-great-grandfather, the founder of the Olympios dynasty. So he wore it constantly, as some sort of sign that he was the current and rightful monarch.

But he was no fool. He knew that rings didn't make the kings in this day and age. It was the insignia. They were symbols of power, yet to most people they were just part of the show. And everyone knew, the royals had to pull that off every once in a while...

He hated that notion. They weren't performers in a circus. But, since that frenzy was inevitable, he had sought solace in here for a little while. It was the perfect place where he could forget all about the argument he had had with Hera earlier. She had dared to ask him to release the engagement announcement. Again!

He wouldn't think about her now. Even he had to allow himself to indulge in the sense of power that his outfit oozed. His tuxedo had been ironed just two hours ago, as had the light blue sash with the narrow white borders of the Order of the Redeemer that he had to wear across from his body from the right shoulder. The star of the Order shone bright on the left side of his jacket accompanied by those of the other Orders he had received due to his status as Sovereign: the Order of the Phoenix, the Order of the Beneficence, and the Royal Decoration of the Greek Royal House. Under the collar of his shirt, he wore the necklace of the dynastic Order of King Uranus and all his military and naval honours hang from the lapel of his jacket, for he was the _de juris_ head of all the armed forces in the country. They all felt heavy on him, like a head that bore the crown. Yet, much as he'd love to remove his jacket just for five minutes, his vanity wouldn't let him.

Yes, much as some people loved to remind him of how little real power he had, it still felt good to be King.

He scoffed. Setting the crystal glass on the oak glass table in front of him, he took a glimpse at his watch. They still had about an hour to kill before they'd have to leave. That was more than enough time.

Taking his private mobile phone from the inner pocket of his jacket, he scrolled through his contacts list. Luckily for him, the number he wished to call was at the very top, saved under the name "1A." That was the only way he could ensure it wouldn't get lost in the void.

Without hesitation, he pressed the call button and brought the device to his ear. A few seconds later, he heard a familiar voice on the other line: "Your Majesty?!"

The younger man sounded incredibly surprised. Zeus jumped straight to the topic: "I hear SEAFOAM asked you to go out with her a few days ago. I saw the cover."

He used Aphrodite's security code name for additional security. Years at the highest peak of the country's politics had taught him not to trust that his personal phone calls would not be spied on. That's how Hera had found out about him and Ganymede in the first place after all.

Anchises stammered. "O-of course, Sir. It was all her idea."

"Did she tell you why?"

"Sh-she told me she was s-seeing someone." He cleared his throat. "They had a fight and she needed to show him that she wouldn't be waiting for him forever."

 _Typical Aphrodite_..., Zeus thought before adding: "I trust you don't know who that someone might be."

"No, Sir. She never tells me such things."

Zeus clenched his jaw. He should have been expecting that his daughter would be smart enough to keep her love life a secret, even to her countless lovers. "Fine. If she asks you to keep this up, you must tell me at once. Same if she reveals to you the identity of that man. He might be someone irrelevant again but it wouldn't hurt to know."

"Of course. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yes. Play by the rules."

Zeus hang up before Anchises could even dare reply. As soon as his phone was back in his pocket, he took another sip of his drink.

He was still angry that the whole plan with Anchises had gone downhill. The idea to throw him at Aphrodite's feet had seemed perfect at first, despite Hera's countless warnings. His daughter's love life had long become a favourite topic of the paparazzi, gossip magazines, and caricaturists in newspapers. As if that wasn't enough, crazy stories circulated about her and her presumed lovers constantly. Not just in Greece. The U.S. was the biggest part of the problem, for the Greek journalists would reproduce the crap that their American colleagues would come up with and present it as "valid information". Zeus had feared that all that madness would put the Monarchy at risk and so he had decided to teach his daughter a lesson. Sure, he did have his own fair share of scandals, but he still remained largely untouchable, both thanks to his position and Hera being so widely respected by the Greeks. They didn't dare cross the line for fear of they might get to her.

For better or worse, Aphrodite was different. Women were always considered to be the easier victim, especially in this country. It was Zeus' duty as a father to ensure that she'd stay out of harm. He hadn't planned to beat her at her own game at first. Yet, considering how stubborn she was, he had no other choice. Anchises was the perfect bait. He ticked all the boxes on the list: he was stupid enough to let other people use him, his father was a media mogul and - most importantly - he was just Aphrodite's type. Tall, well-built, handsome, and enigmatic. But Zeus hadn't intended to let them cross the line. Anchises would never become his son-in-law, no matter how bad Aphrodite had fallen for him. That's why he had told her that he had disapproved of the match.

As a matter of fact, he still did.

He chuckled. If only Hera were here, she'd tell him once more that he had gone too far. But then again, she had never really trusted Anchises or his family in the first place, even though they had known them personally for the past six years. In the spring of 2000, while Aphrodite had been studying in New York City, the King and the Queen of the Hellenes had made a rare and much-discussed official visit to Turkey. It had been the first time that a Greek head of state had been invited to the country that had been the most prominent enemy of Greece for centuries on end. Their first stop, after Ankara, had been Constantinople, also known as Istanbul. It had always been a city of great importance to the Greeks for it was the former capital of the long-gone Byzantine Empire. Capys and Themiste Dardanos, Anchises' parents, had invited them for a private luncheon in their mansions on the outskirts of the town. Zeus and Hera had been impressed by their fluent Greek and genuine love for their home country, even though they had spent their entire lives as members of the Greek minority in Turkey. Anchises was a little older than Aphrodite and he had already completed his studies in Business and Public Relations - which his father had wanted. He had been planning to pursue his Master's in Athens, but he had been worried that his Turkish passport, the Greek and Turkish bureaucracy, and the strenuous diplomatic relationship between the two countries would make it impossible for him to achieve his goal. Hera had suspected that the luncheon in their honour had been a way to bribe them. But Anchises' motivation had made such a big impression on Zeus that he had rushed to help. He had signed him a certificate, guaranteeing that he was a personal acquaintance and that he was free to study at any Greek university he'd choose.

Real power or not, no one could doubt the power of the King's signature.

Three years ago, he had invited Anchises to a private audience at the Royal Palace. Zeus knew that he couldn't say no. The Dardanos family owed him a great deal. It was thanks to his connections that Capys had managed to expand his business to Greece. Zeus had even prepared to threaten him that, unless he did as he was told, Anchises would never receive the Greek nationality he had already applied for.

But now, Zeus cursed his luck - or the lack thereof. By the looks of it, Aphrodite had turned the tables and was now using Anchises for her own advantage instead. Unless he regained control of the strings, Zeus would have to find another way to keep his daughter's feet on the ground.

There was no way in hell that he'd accept the fifty million _and_ do as Dione wished. He was even determined to negotiate that part of the deal with his ex-wife. Every time Aphrodite got in trouble, he had come to her rescue. Yes, all of her problems had to do with her personal life. But there was another reason why he wouldn't stand to be bought off like that.

He was The King for heaven's sake!

* * *

 _5:45 P.M._

 _Royal Suite, Hotel GB_

"We had a deal, Aphrodite!"

Aaand here comes my darling sister again, being mad at me for absolutely no obvious reason whatsoever. That's how she rolls. At first, she catches you by surprise. Almost immediately, she disappears from your life for an entire week, making you the happiest person on earth. Then, all of a sudden, she comes back, demanding an explanation you had no idea you owed her in the first place.

If that doesn't sound terrible enough, just think that there are people out there who actually think we do like each other. Thunder chief among them. Or Peacock too, even. But yeah, those two aren't the smartest cookies out there to begin with.

Well, what can I say? Their bad.

I rest my private mobile phone against my shoulder, staring at the ceiling all the while. Athena continues to just... blabber on but I can only hear her muffled voice. I can't be missing any interesting bits because she continues to sound like she's too mad at me for my own good.

Whatever that means.

Eventually, I do bring it back against my ear. Yes, I hate myself for that as well. "It still stands as we arranged!" I reply, trying my best to imitate Mother's voice every time she closes another business deal or arranges for yet another press conference to take place. I have to admit, Mama Rose is a great teacher but I might be a disappointment of a student, for Athena doesn't sound very convinced. If at all.

Listen for yourselves: "One of the conditions or, if I remember correctly, the _sole_ condition that we have agreed on states that I do not betray you as long as you do not embarrass me!"

Wait... Have we signed a contract or something? Or did she scribble a document overnight and forged my signature on it? Well, I wouldn't be surprised in either case. She had actually tried that trick when we were four years old and I'd steal the chocolate candy that was intended for her. On purpose. And what did Little Miss Genius do? She had already learned to read and write by that age and so she wrote a "contract" in which she stated that I was forbidden from touching her things ever again. To make matters worse, she had made everyone sign it. Really. From the second assistant plumber to Zeus Almighty in all his might. Needless to say, the signatures took a lot more space and paper than the "contract" itself. I think she still has it, by the way. I know better than to ask, though.

But that was still three hundred years ago and now we're both older, wiser, and much better at this whole frenemies thing. At least I know better than to stab her with my pair of scissors, even though the urge to do so is a little too great at times. If I do it, though, Eris will become my heir. And no one would like that. Except for Peacock. Maybe.

"Look, Athena, is this getting anywhere?"

Oh, come on now, don't give me that look! If her time is precious, so is mine. Yes, I know, I have to be fashionably late. But there's a lot more things I could be doing instead of being... stuck in here.

She sighs. There we go. "Why did you go out with your ex and have pictures taken?"

Oh, god, not her too! I swear, this has become the talk of the town now. Honestly can't people just... find something else to discuss? Just for a day or two? It's already bad enough that Mother, Lydia, and almost every single one of my Oceanides cousins keep asking me what had gotten into me. No wait, Astris and Aganippe (another cousin of mine) also said that they liked my hair in that photo of me and Anchises exiting the bar and holding hands, so I guess they do deserve a few extra golden stars for the compliment. They found out about it because I forwarded them the email that Anchises had sent me, the one with the pictures and the article.

But, nevertheless, they whined.

And Athena seems to be following on their grand footsteps... "Don't try to fool me, Aphrodite! Those aren't old photographs and I am not our father!"

Damn, I should have been recording this phone call! It's not every day that I get her to say such a thing. Thunder would just love to hear it, don't you think?

Yet, I still have to explain myself to my not-so-younger half-sister, who still remains of a lesser status than me. Guess one has to experience everything in life, huh?

"Look, it's part of the plan a-"

"An allegiance means that all parties involved take every single decision together!" Thanks a lot for the definition, Merriam-Webster... "Now, do you want in or do you want out?"

What sort of a stupid question is that? "Of course I want in! My own future is at stake here!"

"Good!" Oh won't you look at that, she sounds awfully pleased with herself... "Then you'll do as I tell you!"

"Why?"

Last time I checked, I was the one supposed to be giving orders to her and not the other way around. Should I just... let it drop? She's definitely smart enough to realize her mistake by herself at some point. I hope.

"I don't want you to step the wrong foot again!" Yes, I know. I was expecting a more original response as well. But you know what comes next. Some sweet talking never harmed anyone. "It's not that I don't trust you." See? "It's just that I don't trust your... urges."

My... what? Good riddance, is that a remark on my sex life? Well, that's definitely a first... "I can control my urges!"

"Really? Last time I checked, Father was getting you married to the only man in the country under forty who had not yet slept with you!"

Nice try there, Dorothy Zbornak...

As you would expect, I cannot not reply to such a criminal offense. "You're not funny."

"And you're not smart enough."

Fine. I get it. But I still make far better jokes than that Bea Arthur wannabe over there. In fact, I think she'd resemble her a lot. If she was older. And taller. And actually talented in anything other than getting on my nerves for a change.

I guess I could just... hung up. I mean, that's the easiest way to get rid of someone. Not to mention how terribly relaxing it is to close flip phones. It actually does make you feel incredibly powerful. Plus, it's a great way to get rid of the frustration, as I've come to find with that beloved royal family of mine.

Still, I can't help explaining myself. "There's a reason why I did it. I can't tell you exactly what it is, but it's serious. I promise."

Never mind me, I'll just play the drama queen for a little while longer, in the vain hope that she might actually take pity in me for a change.

Yet, by the sound of it, it isn't going to happen any time soon... "Does it have to do with your personal life?"

Please, do tell me that you can also picture her fully dressed, tiara and sashes and all that jazz, in the King's Office in Tatoi, one hand resting against the elbow of the arm with which she's holding the receiver. You do? Oh, splendid. Now, try to imagine Blanche walking towards me with her head and tail down, as she does every single time she is guilty and she knows it. Let's just pretend that Blanche is me for twenty seconds. Now you know what I feel like.

And, as you would expect, a hesitant reply is in order: "Yes..."

"Then whatever it is, it has to stop." I love her precision there. "You may not have realized it yet, but our plan does have to do with your personal life!"

She can go on and on and on, but I've had enough. "See you at Zappeion!"

And just like that, I flip my phone shut. Gosh... This girl is always giving me such a nasty headache. For those few out there who do support her, yes, I am sure it's her to blame and not my tiara. The Rose Crystal actually feels like I'm wearing a hat, even though it doesn't really look like it.

In other news, the people in the sitting room break into applause and Blanche barks in unison. My 'pretty-me-up' team have covered my pet dog in a special blouse to keep her from shredding all over the place and now they're all sitting together, listening to the makeshift concert that Mother is giving. She was playing _Strangers In The Night_ when my darling sister called and long story short, the Sinatra tribute is still going strong. She's playing _New York, New York_ now. Well, I don't blame her for feeling nostalgic really. What I wouldn't give to be back there... We could take a stroll through snowy Central Park, see the windows of all the stores in Fifth Avenue, visit Brooklyn and see all those houses all lit up, see the Christmas trees at the Rockefeller Center and at the MET... Damn, I miss the time my life was very much like one of those cheesy movies set in NYC...

I do have to admit though, Athens is pretty wonderful at Christmas too. But New York overshadows it. Oh, there I go again, comparing incomparable things... Who knows, maybe I could join Mother. We often do play duets together but my skills are a bit rustier than hers, I'm afraid. The last time I played, Ares was self-trapped in here, trying to get on my stupid nerves. Speaking of, he's still nowhere to be found. Or heard. Or seen. Whispered about even, for that matter.

Oh, no. Don't you worry. I won't ruin tonight worrying about him.

New Year's Eve comes but once a year, after all.

* * *

 _6:00 P.M._

 _East Drawing Room, Palace of Tatoi, Acharnai, East Attica_

Clenching his jaw, Poseidon fixed a second glass of whiskey on the rocks. He hated to see his little Pearl like that. Four days had gone by since that fateful night Ares had made that outrageous confession and she had yet to recover from the shock it had left her with. For his part, Poseidon kept trying to convince her that it had been mere nonsense and drunk talk. Amphitrite knew he was lying. Truth be told, he couldn't let it sink in either. He couldn't hide from her. They were sleeping on the same bed after all...

As he threw ice in the two drinks, he contemplated once more whether he should sleep in the adjoining King's Bedroom from now on. For one thing, he'd spare Amphitrite from his endless tossing and turning. Perhaps she'd manage to get enough sleep this way. But it'd be pointless. Sooner or later, they'd find themselves in each other's arms again, seeking solace in each other. It sounded childish, for sure, but that's how they had always coped with the hardships they had faced for as long as they had been together.

Still, he missed her smile. It had been his favourite feature of hers. Her face would glow from happiness, only increasing her already marvelous beauty. In the dark of the night, while everyone had long fallen asleep, he had been trying to think of ways to cheer her up. Thankfully, the Queen's Bedroom was spacious enough to afford them all the privacy they needed. He had tried everything, from pulling funny faces and whispering shocking jokes in her ear to tickling her all over. But she'd either look the other way, turn her back to him or, even worse, give him the same reassuring smirk that she gave to the rest of the family every time they asked her if she was alright. Poseidon despised it with all his might. He was her husband, for heaven's sake! He knew her better than anyone else in this world and he could read her like an open book. Or so he liked to think, at least. Yet, every time she turned to herself, he felt pointless. Like she was keeping a secret from him.

Things would have been far easier for them if they were on their own in Tatoi or, even better, if they were at their own home in Porto Heli right now. For one thing, they wouldn't have had to deal with their relatives that way. Somehow, speculation had arisen both among them and the staff about him and Amphitrite's odd behaviour. According to their genius, either Amphitrite had had a pregnancy scare or she and Poseidon had been trying for a third child but to no avail. That explained the disapproving icy stares Hestia had been throwing Poseidon every single time he joined them in the Dining Room then. Adding insult to injury, she kept implying how her sister-in-law was too old for that kind of thing and "just because Hera and Demeter had children at that age, doesn't mean it ought to become a family tradition." Poseidon would love to lash out one day and tell her the whole truth, but he couldn't. Amphitrite had made him promise no one else would find out about Ares and Aphrodite, except for Zeus and Hera. At the end of the day, they were still their parents. They could stop it before it was too late. But in either case, Poseidon was prepared to take yet another bullet for his beloved nephew instead of letting him untangle himself from the mess that he had made by himself. Thankfully, they didn't have to worry about Rhode and Triton. Their father had threatened to cut their holidays short if they dared ask any questions about the things they heard, especially to their mother's face.

Taking the drinks in his hands, Poseidon walked towards his wife. She was sitting on the heavy Edwardian sofa across the room, staring at her hands absentmindedly. He stopped halfway through to take in the sight. She looked astonishing. Heck, breathtaking even! In her beautiful gown, her lavish jewels, and the blue sash of the Order of Queen Gaia across her body, she rather resembled those old-fashioned royal portraits. Normally, he'd also think how he hated that sash with the matching star of the Order pinned on her left hip. They were a harsh reminder that Amphitrite also belonged to the Crown. And who represented it? Right. His stupid younger brother.

Still, tonight came but once a year. It'd be a great pity if Amphitrite wouldn't enjoy it and he'd hate himself if he did not at least try to help her.

He handed her one glass, certain that she'd leave it untouched. She had told him time and again how much she despised whiskey on the rocks because of its funny smell. Nevertheless, she looked like she needed something strong. Badly.

Much to his surprise, she took a long sip at once, closing her eyes in disgust as she did so. He was about to do the same but her voice stopped him: "Be careful. You don't want to spoil your sash."

He chuckled. "I hope you don't say the same thing to Rhode and Triton, Dolphin. They'll never leave their rooms otherwise."

Setting the glass on her coffee table nearby, Amphitrite fiddled with the fabric of her skirt. "Maybe we shouldn't have let Rhode take part in the interviews segment this year," she said staring as her fingers played with the taffeta. "Girls that age... You know what they can be like."

Poseidon brought his arm around her neck and drew her close. He knew why she was doing that. She wanted to change the subject, as if that would somehow make the issue at hand dissolve into thin air. She had acted like that quite a lot these past few days. Amphitrite rested her head on his shoulder, not caring that she might ruin her hair or misplace her tiara.

"They have interviewed the guests since they were seven," he reassured her. "They're quite the professionals now. At least Triton won't throw his mike into Zeus' tomato soup ever again!"

Amphitrite chuckled. It lasted only for a moment, yet Poseidon felt like he had just heard the prettiest sound. But it wasn't enough. He still missed the sound of her laughter. There had to be a way he could get it out of her somehow.

Suddenly, he noticed a wooden stereo cabinet a short distance away from the buffet where he had fixed their drinks. Bingo! That thing was almost forty years old, but it still played music. As a matter of fact, he might have kept that record somewhere... Their collection of vinyl discs was actually one of the very few things they had brought back to Greece from London after the Monarchy was restored and their time in exile had ended.

Much to Amphitrite's disappointment, he broke their embrace and approached it. She kept her eyes fixed on him out of curiosity. She suspected what he had in mind and she hoped that he wouldn't do it. But when she saw Poseidon open a small door and rummage through the old records, she laughed to herself.

Foolish her! What was stopping him?

"Aha!" he exclaimed, pulling out an old, worn out record. The big red dot on the back side signified that it was one of the oldest items in the royal collection and, as such, they had to treat it very carefully. Yet Poseidon seemed too excited to care about that. He put it on the console immediately. After meddling with the needle until he found the right spot, a familiar melody filled the room:

 _You can dance_

 _Every dance with the guy who gives you the eye_

 _Let him hold you tight_

 _You can smile_

 _Every smile for the man who held your hand_

 _'Neath the pale moonlight_

 _But don't forget who's takin' you home_

 _And in whose arms you're gonna be_

 _So darlin' save the last dance for me._

Amphitrite brought her hand to her lips, trying to stifle her giggles. Out of all the songs that he could have picked...! She still cringed at the memory of drunk Poseidon singing it right outside her window at her parents' home in Naxos with a loudspeaker as his mike, a very strong Greek accent, and trying to imitate Elvis Priestley's dancing in the most terrible way imaginable. Had she been more confident back in the day, she would have found the whole thing a lot more amusing than she had actually done. No one had ever serenaded her before! On broad daylight no less! But his marvelous rendition had been cut short when her mother had thrown a bucket of cold water right at him to make him stop.

Thankfully, Doris wasn't anywhere near by now and, hopefully, he wouldn't sing again this time around either. Perhaps he had picked that song to cheer her up. He had run out of ways to tell her that she should stop worrying about her nephew and enjoy the rest of the holidays apparently. He could be right. She was spending too much time thinking of other people. It was about time that she just... let go.

Poseidon had noticed the small smile on her lips. He'd be playful, then. Trying to adopt the most regal posture he could muster, he rested his left arm on the small of his back and his right arm on his stomach, fist closed. Yet as he approached her, he stretched it out and opened his hand. Amphitrite looked up.

"M'lady," he grinned. "May I have the honour?" She stared at him for a few seconds, not quite believing that it was the same man and the same song, all those years later. But Poseidon was growing impatient. "It's your last chance to dance with me this year, Pearl."

With a smirk, she let him lead her to the middle of the room. Good for them, there was lots of empty space there for them to move around freely. Poseidon began to sway to the music, holding her close with a steady hand on the small of his back. Amphitrite simply followed his lead. Before she realized it, she felt... lighter. As if the weight she had been carrying on her shoulders had somehow been lifted. She didn't know whether it was Poseidon to blame and neither did she care to find out. Not now, not anymore. For the time being, she was just a woman in a pretty ball gown, swaying to an old song and looking into her husband's eyes. Poseidon was the best partner she could find. He was experienced, for sure, and obedient only when he wanted to be. But still, he was full of surprises. Like this one. And he always remained gentle with her, even though he was harsh at times. She definitely wouldn't want to be with anyone else right now, no matter the easier life they could've offered her.

And the song went on...

 _Cause don't forget who's takin' you home_

 _And in whose arms you're gonna be_

 _So darlin' save the last dance for me_

As the melody began to fade out, she closed her eyes and rested her head against Poseidon's chest. But all of a sudden, she heard a strange sound.

Applause.

But it wasn't Poseidon. He couldn't be embracing her and clapping so enthusiastically at the same time. She must have been dreaming about it, then. It was definitely the whiskey doing tricks on her. Last time she checked, Poseidon was locking the door to make sure that they'd enjoy some time by themselves without being bothered.

But wait... It wasn't just one person clapping. It was louder than that.

She heard a familiar, gentle voice whisper in her ear: "Darling, we've got an audience!"

Stunned, she turned to look behind her, only to come across an extraordinary sight. Rhode, Athena, and Hestia were all standing by the door, beaming proudly. Even Hades was poking his head inside, trying to see what all that fuss was about. She couldn't help blushing. Truth be told, it did feel like they had walked in on her and Poseidon. But her husband had a better idea.

Pinching her hand just a little, he motioned for her to curtsy to them. True to his word, he bowed, as if he wished to lead the way once more. Thankfully, though, Athena rushed to the rescue. "Right," she said, patting on her cousin's shoulder. "Show's over. Come on."

But Rhode wouldn't leave until she said what she had in mind. Freeing herself from Athena's grip, she waited until Poseidon walked up to her and put his arm around her shoulders, like he always did. She didn't waste a second: "Father? Can I tell you something?"

"Sure, darling. Would you like to dance as well?"

"Actually... could you never dance again? Like, ever? I don't know why Mum keeps dancing with you but you're by far the worst dancer I've ever seen!"

That remark received mixed reactions. Hades snickered, Athena tried not to, and Amphitrite gave her husband a reassuring smile. Much as Poseidon disliked to be ridiculed by his very own family, he decided not to pay any further attention on that. He figured that he had better change the subject before it was too late.

His hand still resting protectively on Rhode's shoulder, he asked: "Where's your grandmother?"

"Upstairs," Rhode replied, eager to leave this old house already. "Triton went to find her and she told him she needed to be on her own for a while."

Amphitrite sighed, which Hades noticed. "We still have time," he told her. "Besides, Zeus and Hera will be the first to arrive and, well, we can rest assured that Aphrodite will be fashionably late, as always."

"Well then," she replied, trying to hide her worry about Rhea. "I guess we can always wait for her in the sitting room."

Poseidon looked at Rhode. "Or an angry daughter could dance with her trained father for a change."

She got the message. "For the last time, I'm not dancing with you!"

Poseidon raised his arms in defeat. He had no idea who Rhode had taken after. She had neither her mother's timidity nor his own spark to try out new things. Yet Amphitrite kept reminding him that it was normal for children not to take after their parents when it came to personality.

He was confident, however, that he made a far better father and husband than Zeus.

At least he tried. Which, judging by Athena's behaviour lately, he couldn't say also applied to his younger brother.

* * *

 _Army base, Alexandroupoli, Northern Greece_

Ares gave up. Closing the folder in frustration, he leaned back on his chair and let out a frustrated sigh. He had been locked in that goddamn room for hours trying to concentrate on that pile of folders the Colonel asked him to read but no matter how hard he tried to pay attention, his mind kept wandering back to... her.

 _They were back in that abandoned house. He was chasing after her from room to room. She entered the room where the mattress and the candles were. And just like that, she vanished. Into thin air. Like a ghost._

He was having that dream for the past four days. Her laughter would echo in his ears. It was mocking him all the more each time. He'd see her again tonight. He was sure of it.

But he wouldn't give in. Maybe it was just his body doing tricks on him. If so, he'd find different ways to satisfy that need of his. There were plenty of women out there, both in Greece and abroad, ready to fall on their knees just for him to notice them. He could offer her a life of many privileges and few obligations. Who would be stupid enough to resist him?

Not Eos, that's for sure. She texted him every day for the most random things. Like a needy puppy. He replied to her messages just for the heck of it. He had even promised to see her as soon as he'd be back to Athens. But he wouldn't keep this relationship going for long. He'd break up with her the first chance he got. Women like her made him sick. They were no fun at all if they were willing to succumb to his every wish just like that. He needed them to challenge him. The harder they were to bend, the better. They made victory taste all the sweeter. That's why he was so obsessed with Aphrodite. She was stubborn as a mule, hard as a rock, and one hell of a tough act to follow.

There he was doing it again! Hell, he was the biggest idiot in the planet. She was just a woman, for fuck's sake. No big deal.

But he was still jealous of her. The mere thought that she'd look her best tonight only to be escorted by that... crude Hephaestus was driving him crazy. It was him whose arm she should have been holding on to, he who'd make her laugh by comparing his tux to a 'penguin costume', he who'd put his arm around her and flirt with her in his own, secretive way. Suddenly, he felt the need to smell her perfume again, if only for a few seconds. Just to make sure that she was closer to him than he liked to think.

He laughed to himself. No, that was asking for too much. She was there and he was here. She'd don a tiara tonight and he'd still be in the same uniform he was wearing every day. They belonged in two different worlds now. He was only wasting his time and energy by thinking about her.

Yes, there were plenty of things he could be doing tonight instead. He could drive to town and find an empty bar. He'd spent the night drinking until he'd fall asleep on the counter. Or he'd visit one of those girls he went to often. They'd be more than happy to comfort him on a night like this. Heck, he could even join the small makeshift party in the canteen that the soldiers had arranged. He could listen to their songs echoing through the vast corridor. But he wouldn't be allowed to drink there. He was obliged to set out the good example to those of lower ranking than him.

To hell with them! He'd find a way to make it through the celebrations tonight. The night wouldn't last forever, after all. Besides, he could rest assured that no one would disturb him unless, say, a war was to break out all of a sudden. But that was just as unlikely as Aphrodite being in love with him.

Bringing a cigarette to his lips, he lit it up and let the smoke fill his lungs. He closed his eyes for a moment, wishing that he'd feel nothing when he opened them again.

Nothing at all.

He needed to grow numb to everything. That was the only way to free himself of Aphrodite's accursed charm. But he couldn't. She was making him feel like fire, like he could burn everything to the ground with a simple snap of her fingers. But whereas he was ready to lift up mountains for her sake, she constantly put up an icy wall between them and she kept pushing him back with even more force than he had ever believed tangible for someone like her.

He couldn't take it anymore. He needed to see her. Now.

The tiny portable TV was still in his bottom drawer. It was nearly as big as a radio, had a terrible signal and its batteries could only run for a couple of hours, but it was more than enough for him. All he wanted was to look at her face. To see if she was suffering as much as he did.

Not that she'd show it in public, of course. She was a master at acting. She was probably beaming with pride too every time she thought about him and how much she'd made him suffer. What an idiot he was... Allowing himself to be fooled like that...

Yet, he couldn't find her. All the channels he could tune in featured those stupid live shows with music, dancing, and the most annoying hosts they could find. He wasn't in the mood for some silly chatter and their stupid wishes. He had heard those a thousand times before. But what he needed was a glimpse at Zappeion Megaron. Hell, the New Year's Eve gala that his parents hosted was the most famous and talked-about occasion in this whole fucking country! Why wouldn't those stupid journalists just talk about that already?

He tuned into another channel. There it was. A full shot of the old building with its Grecian colonnade and the row of limousines parked outside. A royal car showed up, decorated with the Greek flag that featured a small golden crown in the middle. It was Zeus and Hera. Of course they were the first to appear. They had to greet their guests. As tradition declared.

Aphrodite wouldn't show up anytime soon by the looks of it. As always. She'd go to great lengths to ensure that she'd be the centre of attention.

But she deserved it.

 _Damn well she did._

Screw it. If she could enjoy this bloody evening, so could he.

He threw the TV back into the drawer and stomped out the cigarette on the floor. One of the soldiers would take care of it later.

The laughter and music became louder as he approached the canteen. There'd be no drinking for him tonight. It might be better this way. Perhaps he wouldn't dream of her tonight for a change. Plus, he'd have a bit of a fun later on as well.

What the heck was wrong with that?

* * *

 _The Queen's bedroom, Palace of Tatoi, Acharnai, East Attica_

Rhea brought a gloved hand to her chest. Standing still for a few minutes, she paid attention to her breathing and the sound of her heartbeat. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

What an astonishing thing it was, knowing that she was still alive...

Yet it scared her. It brought back memories. Cronus' heavy footsteps echoing in the corridor... Her hiding under the sheets, praying that it was all a bad dream... That she was just a little girl... And this world was far, far away...

But it wasn't. She was right here, in the very room where she had spent all those terrifying nights. These walls had heard her muffled cries for help, they had seen the tears rolling down her face... It was by that very window that she had stayed up until the early morning hours, dreaming about and planning her escape...

She could hardly recognize it now. The bed had changed, as had the colour on the walls. A different kind of perfume was lingering in the air, the one that Amphitrite always wore. She was the mistress of the tower now. Her own clothes were hanging in the boudoir and it was her jewels that were scattered all over the dressing table.

As if the past could be rewritten... As if everything could start all over again...

Perhaps that was the secret to survival after all. Moving on. Putting things behind you. Forgetting...

Rhea had been trying to do so for years. She had moved to Crete in a desperate attempt to escape. The tranquility of her small estate and a predictable life of routine seemed ideal for her at first. At long last, she'd be free to do whatever she wanted, go wherever she pleased... Every morning, she took long strolls along the beach. Then, she tended to her flowers and vegetables. Some friends came over for visit. Her staff treated her like an old lady and she scolded them for doing so...

But that's exactly what she was. Most of her grandchildren would soon have children of their own. Her hair had turned white, her face was full of wrinkles... She had to confront them every time she looked into the mirror. Like a curse she couldn't hide from...

Yet here she was. Listening to the sound of her own heartbeat. Overwhelmed by the magic of her very own breathing...

Tonight, she felt young again. She knew what it was. Anticipation. Eagerness. Impatience. Enthusiasm.

Life.

The night before, right before she had closed her eyes, she had made a promise to herself. It sounded crazy. Still, she was determined to fulfill it.

Hopefully, her children wouldn't stop her.

Walking towards the full-length mirror, she kept her eyes fixed at her reflection. She could not recognize that old woman who was staring back at her. She was wearing a wonderful long purple gown and heavy jewelery. Even makeup...

She seemed lost. Like she did not belong to that world. Not anymore...

Her face looked familiar. She had seen it in an old photograph. That girl was wearing the exact same ornaments. She was smiling innocently, as if that could erase her future sadness.

Easier said than done...

With trembling hands, the old lady removed the heavy jewel on her head. She turned it carefully and stared at it for a while. The Antique Flame Tiara. _As old as the country itself._ That's how Queen Gaia had described it when she had passed it down to her. Like the equivalent of a crown, it'd be passed down from Queen to Queen for generations. The endless line of its succession had stopped at her. She took the blame for that.

It had been presumed lost since 1968, when the Royal Family had been urged by the military regime to flee the country for Rome. She remembered that night well. They had packed their personal belongings in a hurry, making sure to take all the royal jewels with them. Everything had been happening too fast for anyone to think. They had been obligated to leave before midnight. Or else.

What? No one knew. They were never told.

She marveled at its beauty and majesty. It was a great piece of art, an excellent array of silver metal and ivory diamonds, round and big on the top and bottom yet smaller in the middle. Two aquamarine stones stood out at the very front. The Flame still shone bright, even after all these years...

She had rescued it by hiding it underneath her clothes. She had held the suitcase tight, all the while fearing that she might lose her children in the crowd. Reporters had stood in their way, taking pictures and asking them questions... Their guards had been trying to clear the road for them... There had been light, too much light for the dark of the night and the sound from the plane engines had been nothing short of deafening.

Yet she had held it close to her chest. As if her life had depended upon it.

That's what she had believed back then.

Years ago, when she had been pregnant to Hades, she had wished to sell it. Somehow, she'd have managed to feign robbery and she'd have been able to flee Greece with her two daughters the soonest possible. The Antique Flame had definitely been worth the price of three one-way tickets to Australia, plus enough money for them to get by until they could settle down. Looking back, it had been a crazy idea. Sooner or later, she'd have been tracked down. Cronus wouldn't have been merciful. The Crown Princess couldn't just... disappear. Especially when she was obviously carrying the heir to the throne...

Still, it had been a dream. Something to look forward to...

It gave her hope.

At the end of the day, that's all it came down to. That's all that truly mattered.

Had she wasted her life? Since she could remember herself, she had been doing other people's bidding. Her parents, who had never forgotten their noble background, had groomed her to become the perfect young lady. Sometimes, when she knelt on the ground in her garden, she could still hear her mother scolding her for getting her hands dirty. When she had grown up, she had restored some of their forgone Romanov glory by marrying the future King. She had now become her husband's property. For twenty years, she had had to endure his venomous desires. Every night, she had clenched her teeth and succumbed to his every wish, trying to endure the pain.

Yes, she had been reluctant. She had suffered in silence. But she had done her duty.

That had been all that mattered, hadn't it? But not anymore. In the end, everything seemed to have found its right place. Her children were happy in their own, twisted ways. All of her grandchildren respected her, even though she was very much a stranger to them. Her daughters-in-law loved her and cared for her, even though they didn't know her well. Better yet, she had even started to forget what her husband looked like...

At long last, she was free.

Or so she thought. Until last night.

She couldn't remember when the nightmares had started. It may have been three years ago, if not more. Each night, she'd wake up covered in sweat, panting and feeling how her heart beat wild. She had come to think that she'd die this way. Sooner or later, one of those dreams would have given her the final blow..

Recently, she kept having the same vision. Cronus' footsteps echoed down the corridor, becoming louder with each passing second. She was lying on her bed, a young girl of twenty again, dreading the speed of time. The door flung open. But instead of him, a monster showed up. With six arms, six legs, and five heads. He didn't approach her. Someone was holding him back. Despite the darkness, she could recognize Zeus and Poseidon. They were fully grown men and dressed like the kings they were never born to become. They were threatening to kill him. But, suddenly, Hades stood by her side and told her to look at her hands. She was holding a knife... She was trembling all over. She couldn't do it. Yet her sons were urging her to. They were encouraging her to attack him. She was the only one who could...

Amphitrite had once again stopped her hallucination, as she had done every single night since she and Poseidon had traveled to Crete the month before. She had held her close, reassuring her that everything would be alright. But Rhea had not believed her. No matter what she had said...

She looked out of the window. For a fleeting moment, she had wondered what it might have felt like. To open it... and jump down... She'd never see the sun again. She'd never stroll along the beach or hear the sound of her loved ones' voice. She'd no longer sit on the sand and stare at the Aegean Sea for hours, reminiscing the island she had grown up in. She'd never smile at the memory of little Zeus running around barefoot, happy that his mommy had come for a visit.

She stared at her reflection again. The stranger in the purple gown was still staring back at her. They resembled each other a lot - like twin sisters. But they were strangers to each other. Rhea wanted nothing to do with that woman. She was a coward who had fallen from grace. Someone who had been trying to cover her fear underneath fine silk, soft satin, and sparkling diamonds...

What had she done to deserve such a life? She didn't know. Neither could she waste precious time trying to figure it out. It may have been a sign, like those demonstrations on her wedding day sixty years ago. It was a different era back then, which now existed only in black and white. Her grandchildren could read all about it in the family archives and their history books. But she was still here. A living relic of another time, cursed in the eternal charm of being associated with the "glorious" past...

And yet... she felt like she had hardly lived at all.

Outwardly, she looked like she had found her peace at last. But there was still an open wound, deep inside her. It strained her of her remaining strength little by little, digging its nails into her skin and sucking the rest of her life out of her. One day at a time.

There was only one way for it to stop. For the wound to heal.

Her family didn't have to know. Especially Zeus. They'd try to pull her back and keep her from doing such an outrageous thing.

But they didn't know. They didn't have to.

She placed the tiara back on her head and fixed her posture. Now she resembled her reflection a little bit more. That stranger in that other world, the coward, was staring back at her. She was smiling...

Better late than never. She had spent years, decades even, preparing for her catharsis. She had chosen her most favourite place in all the land, for mustering up the courage took a lot more strength than she thought it would.

Yet she would not step back. Not now. Not after all she'd been through.

The time had come. After all, she didn't have much life left to live...

It was her final wish. The first and last favour she'd ever do to herself. The final promise to the girl she used to be.

Her most sacred duty.

No, not to the country. To herself.

She wasn't ready. Truth be told, she'd never be. But she knew that she had to do it. The soonest possible.

No matter what it took...


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: I would really like to apologize for not updating in the longest time but my life is crazy at the moment and I'm still surprised I can ever any writing done. This chapter is not as detailed as others are, but since I have already described formal dinners in the chapters about Hera's birthday, I thought I'd spare you the boring descriptions. All formal dinners work in the same way, so it's easy to imagine what dinner looks like in this chapter. That being said, I think I owe the biggest apology to the entirety of Greek mythology for twisting it and changing it so much. This chapter features a new side of Hephaestus and my attempt to incorporate the myth where he ties Hera in chains on a golden throne so he can convince her to let him marry Aphrodite. Spot that moment in this chapter and get a cookie :P**

* * *

 _4:30 P.M. BST_

 _Stansworth Hall, Surrey, England_

A black Rolls Royce with the royal standard at the bonnet stopped before the grand Grecian entrance, forcing the cameras to flash at tremendous speed. Almost immediately, two liveried men proceeded to open its heavy back doors. A well-known couple emerged: the gentleman was dressed in black and the lady was wearing her ivory mink fur coat on top of a midnight blue gown. Yet the most striking feature in her appearance was the sparkling jewel atop her head.

Astris recognized it at once. It was the Ruby Olive Wreath Tiara, the most prominent item of the Greek Ruby Parure, a set of jewels made of dark fuchsia rubies and silver diamonds that only the Queen of the Hellenes was allowed to don. Froufrou would hate her for saying this, but Hera definitely knew how to make that extraordinary work of art stand out, despite wearing her hair in a boring French bun with a wavy fringe for a nice twist.

She definitely couldn't picture her own aunt dressed like that. But then again, Dione never got to be Queen in the first place.

Oh dear. Aphrodite was right after all. Climbing up the marble stairs by Zeus' side, Hera did look like she was heading off to battle instead of a banquet. Her dress and jewelery might as well be an attempt to shove her superiority straight into Dione's face, just because she got to be the one with a title in the end. Yet when Froufrou had told her on the phone hours ago that the Queen would actually do such a pathetic thing, Astris had laughed it off. Much as she loved and supported her cousin, she couldn't help thinking that Aphrodite did let her feelings blur her grasp on reality at times. Yet the more she watched the live coverage on satellite TV, the more she agreed.

Nevertheless, she continued to be worried. She knew that it added stress to her and that it was bad for the baby, but she had had an awful gut feeling all day.

Something just wasn't right.

A reporter in a heavy coat and a tight scarf showed up on screen. The poor guy obviously had better things to do tonight than work for King and Country, yet his boredom was so obvious that it was actually amusing. Grabbing the remote control from the velvet cushion next to her, Astris turned up the volume. Luckily for her, Greek was her native language, despite the notable English accent.

"The Palace confirmed just this morning that Mrs. Dione Oceanides, the Duchess of Dodona will also attend the celebrations, uh, for the first time in almost twenty-five years, that is since her divorce from King Zeus, who was then, of course, still the Crown Prince. She will be accompanied by her daughter, the Crown Princess, and err... Her team confirmed that Mrs. Oceanides is here on a private holiday and she won't give any interviews or do any other public appearances for the remainder of her visit."

Astris snickered. For better or worse, she wasn't a stranger to the world of Greek media either. Sure, she wasn't as prominent as her royal cousin but their common lineage and their striking resemblance did make her own star shine. Plus, the Greeks were intrigued by the people that were born into wealth through no fault of their own and the Oceanides family was often in the eye of that storm. That's why her decision to pursue an acting career had earned a lot more attention (and criticism) in Greece than in the US or the UK.

Careful not to stain her kimono robe, she took another spoonful of yogurt. _Stupid cravings..._ All the while, her eyes remained fixed on the screen. The bored reporter was currently reading aloud the names of the attendees from his own copy of the guest list. Her cousin would chime in yet another year in a place full of government officials and people who had been awarded by the King in service to the Crown - from actors and philanthropists to academics and scientists.

As if on cue, the camera focused on the marvelous entrance of Zappeion Megaron again, as luxury cars were parading outside and immaculately dressed people were stepping out of them and heading to the main building. Then the picture changed again and Astris found herself watching footage from a brightly lit hall with blue walls, as faces she had never seen before were queuing up to greet the reigning couple. Zeus and Hera, ever the professionals, were trying to keep that partt of the evening as brief as possible. A mere handshake, perhaps a kiss on the cheek if they were familiar with that person, and then Hera motioning where they should go. Having nothing better to do, Astris kept counting the honorees amongst them. It was easy to spot them. They were the men and women who had donned their sashes and medals for the evening.

Still, she was anxious to see Aphrodite, just to make sure that she was alright. She had sounded pretty upset on the phone, much as she had tried to laugh it off. Yet Astris could not be easily fooled. But by the looks of it, it'd still be a while before Froufrou's arrival. Astris had mingled with royalty plenty of times to know how such galas worked. Since the Crown Princess was the second most important person in the country after the King, she would show up just as the party was about to begin. Protocol normally declared that kings and queens arrived last, but that rule didn't apply when they had to act as hosts. Truth be told, there was something astonishing in being greeted by the King and the Queen themselves as soon as you arrived somewhere. She had witnessed it for herself a couple of times.

 _Let's be real though_. Zeus and Hera weren't the most gracious hosts when a member of the Oceanides clan was in attendance...

Astris let out a groan. Much as she'd have loved to hide in her bedroom for a bit longer, she had to get ready soon. Her grandparents were hosting a party for their friends tonight and she had to look her best, much as she wasn't in the mood for it. Galas were not created with heavily pregnant women in mind. Despite her brand new designer gown, which was loose to make sure it'd fit, she'd still be stared at like a walking sack of potatoes, get asked when she was due more times than she could count, and repeat a thousand times over that she was having a little boy. Thank goodness she was an actress though and she could fool everyone that she was enjoying herself. Yet, much as she couldn't wait to hold her baby boy and embark on the crazy trip called motherhood, pregnancies weren't fun. At all.

At least she could snub the heels and wear flats tonight. No one would notice.

With a sigh, she took one last glimpse at the TV and set the empty jar aside. She shouldn't complain. Her own troubles would be over in a couple of months. Aphrodite's future, on the other hand, didn't seem so bright.

Try as she might to convince herself otherwise.

* * *

 _7:00 P.M. GST_

 _Hall One, Zappeion Megaron, Athens, Greece_

Zeus felt overcome with pride as he indulged in the sight of people queuing up to greet him. Ah, yes! It did feel good to be King after all.

Especially tonight.

He was determined to make this gala memorable. In more ways than one. Good for him, he did consider his reputation as a graceful host to be the crowning achievement of his reign. His job was to represent Greece and tonight, him and Hera were doing just that. True to her role, she was by his side, smiling at the guests as she shook hands with them. Good for them both, they had become professionals in playing the happy couple, concealing their true feelings about each other from the world.

The short drive from the Royal Palace to Zappeion Megaron had been a much-needed break for both of them. It might have been the presence of their chauffeur and bodyguard on the front seats that prevented them from engaging in a conversation, but nevertheless, Zeus had made sure to enjoy it while it lasted. For once, he had allowed himself to forget all about Dione's money, his own perilous financial situation, and Aphrodite's shenanigans. Oddly enough, Hera had not mentioned the engagement announcement either. He had been half-expecting her to do so, yet she was considering it a private matter and those were not to be discussed in the presence of the staff.

Zeus and Hera continued to shake hands and to smile even wider every time they spotted a friendly face amongst the crowd. After all, the higher the position one occupied, the more allies one should have. Sadly, though, the opposite seemed to apply.

Soon enough, Zeus spotted yet another familiar face.

Mr. Petalas and his wife approached Their Majesties pretty much in a similar fashion like everyone else - with a smile on their lips and fascination in their eyes. Yet Zeus felt bothered by it. Threatened, almost. Staring at them as they were taking everything in, he felt as if they were viewing him as the ticket they needed to enter that world. He was almost certain that they had already started to make plans on how they'd fool Aphrodite into fulfilling each and every single one of their wishes, from mingling with European royalty to redecorating the entirety of the Royal Palace.

He'd better shut the door in their faces before it was too late.

Still, ever the professional, he did not let his remorse show as he shook Mr. Petalas' hand and welcomed him and his wife to the gala. Yet, despite his grin, he had to resist the urge to punch him in the face.

Even hospitality had its limits.

Hera, too, felt uncomfortable in their presence. Or so Zeus hoped, at least. However, he was soon proven wrong. In a totally unprecedented and unexpected moment, Hera allowed Mr. Petalas to kiss the back of her hand. Zeus clenched his jaw.

Of course. She had to thank him for the flowers somehow.

That seemed to be Mr. Petalas' new strategy. Since Aphrodite and Anchises had graced the pages of _Gossip_ magazine a few days ago, bouquets of lilies would arrive at the Royal Palace at nine o'clock precisely. They never contained a card but Zeus could tell by the look in Hera's eyes that she knew who the 'secret admirer' was. As for her, she felt like she didn't owe an explanation to anyone - least of all her husband. Much as she disliked it as well (how dared Mr. Petalas treat her like that!), she was determined to use it to her advantage. She kept hoping, perhaps naively so, that the longer this game lasted, the easier it'd be for her to convince her husband to release the engagement announcement already.

Zeus felt pretty much the same way. That's why it had been child's play for him to figure out that Mr. Petalas was behind it. He seemed to have formed some kind of allegiance with the Queen whilst the King was busier with securing his family's financial security for the near future. Still, they seemed to have developed quite a close bond, or else how would Mr. Petalas know what Hera's favourite flowers were? As far as Zeus was concerned, she loved to keep that information to herself, as if it was some confidential secret known only amongst her loved ones. Zeus himself had found out only within a year or two after their affair had started all those years ago.

For better or worse, he'd better seem like he was avoiding them. It did work for Hera. She needed to be treated like a naughty child sometimes. Give her some playground, no matter how big or small, and she'd end up making a mess of everything. But keep her within the confines of her own room and the rest of the house is as clean as the light of day. As for Mr. Petalas... His own turn would come.

But he needed to forget about all that. He moved on to shake the hands of other guests, for they were far more important than the personal ambitions of someone irrelevant.

Plus, the time for matchmaking was over.

Tonight, he would enjoy himself.

* * *

 _7:30 P.M._

This party is way more fun than the one held on Peacock's birthday. For real.

It's not every day that you get to see Mother in full royal attire (tiara included) chat gleefully with Hephaestus over a glass of red wine now, is it?

Yes, you read that right. As of now, he has officially met both of my parents and, by the looks of it, I shall be expected to meet his before the night is over. I take it you can all guess what shall follow from here. Crowds in the streets, golden carriages, me in a white dress, and the cheerful sound of wedding bells.

Kill me now.

I have to give it to Mother, though. She's a true master of disguise, like any other truly well-bred upper class lady. You can tell as much by her unique ability to combine hostility and utter indifference after the facade of a friendly smile and impeccable manners. No, I don't know how she does it either. I should be taking notes. For the record, I do have an impressive amount of friends that deserve to receive just that kind of treatment.

Oh, and in other news, the world's greatest double act has had yet another fight by the looks of it. That's Thunder and Peacock for short. He's smiling as though a meteorite will hit the earth by midnight where she's... bitter as a lemon. As usual.

He might have told her all about Mother's offer for all I care. Yet she continues to hold the baton of pride way up high, perhaps she even told him straight out that he shouldn't accept, he reminded her that she shouldn't meddle into his affairs (see what I did there?) and now here we are. And to think, those two are actually running a country...

On a more amusing note, though, Mama Rose and Peacock have just dethroned my darling sister and I as Mame and Vera. Well, for one thing, they have just the right age to play those two. It doesn't help that they're in accurate clothes as well - Mother's in silver and Hera's in a blue that could easily be confused for black.

So there you have it.

In all honesty, though, Mother's arrival has caused quite the sensation. Keep an eye out for tomorrow's newspapers - she'll be all over the front pages and it won't be my fault. Plus, if you're lucky, you might as well get a glimpse of Hephaestus standing on the marble staircase outside as he was waiting for us to get out of my Mercedes Benz and trouble enough to be civil with him.

Those were the good old times when I was perfectly sober and civil enough to be... well... civil with him. Now, grab a random paper from the pile, just straight to page eight (or ten, depending on the paper) and read the full report. You're bound to run across the legendary photograph of Mother and Peacock greeting each other which resulted in the most awkward handshake ever. At least Zeus Almighty did have the courtesy to smile at her. Hera, however, felt that she was going to be dethroned apparently and she got rid of all of her anger on me.

She actually dug her nails deep into my skin. I still have the mark.

Damn, I should have worn those gloves after all. But that's how she copes I suppose.

Did I mention that Hephaestus kissed the back of my hand as he greeted me at the end of the stairs? No? Well, now I have. Pretty sure a photographer saw his chance and took a picture of it that'll also grace the society pages first thing tomorrow. And Ares will see it. Great. As if things weren't already complicated enough between us...

Yet, there's something about Hephaestus. He looks... different. Something has changed about him. A lot. He's still very much like a scared puppy among the wolves, but still. He does look... determined? Yes, that's the word. It gives him a glint in his eyes that's... threatening. Scary almost.

But I can't put my finger on it just now. I'm a bit too tipsy for that. One thing is for sure though, he didn't mention anything about the earrings he had made for me. Either he hasn't noticed or he has been too amazed by the gown to notice the details.

Well, he wouldn't be the only one. Almost everyone in here seems to have gasped at the mere sight of it. What could I possibly say? That's what an elaborate cape does to you.

And guess which little girl has been slightly jealous of it? That's right. My darling sister. She arrived dressed in a pink taffeta gown with a pretty jewel neckline, adorning the insignia of the Dame Grand Cross of the Order of the Redeemer (because, well, we both have been princess by birthright), and she keeps the sash in place with a diamond brooch shaped after a magnolia. To make matters worse, she wears her hair in the largest French twist bun you've seen yet and she adorns the Girls of Attica Tiara. Oh no, I beg of you, do not ask me why it has such a ludicrous name. All I know is that it was a gift by Cartier to Princess Themis, King Cronus' immediate older sister, for her wedding to the Crown Prince of Serbia. It's shaped after hearts with small silver diamonds in the middle on top and, after the Serbian Monarchy was no more, my great-aunt returned to Greece and brought her tiara with her. So, long story short, it ended up around Peacock's neck. It's shaped after hearts with small silver diamonds in the middle and on top and that's why it made for a rather great necklace. But, as soon as Athena turned eighteen, they gave it to her in a replica of its original box. True to form, she never hesitates to wear it pretty much in every formal social occasion she has to attend.

Oh, and as if that weren't enough, she did come wearing long, ivory gloves.

Darn it.

At least she looks better than Eris and Eileithyia. Poor things had to recycle some of their mother's old gowns and their own tiaras were loaned to them by Greek jewelers. No, it's not uncalled for to do such a thing. Quite the contrary, in fact. There's not enough tiaras in the royal vaults for us all apparently, so that's the way to go. Besides, it's good promotion for the houses that made them. So there you have it.

While we're still talking about tiaras, though, guess which precious jewel is back from the void. That's right. Queen Rhea is wearing the Antique Flame Tiara. That's the only thing I'm truly excited about tonight, frankly. After years of admiring it from pictures of my ancestors, I now finally get to see it up close. To be honest, I was extremely disappointed when I was told that it had been lost. But now, it's here. It's back. And should it continue to pass down from Queen to Queen, it will land in my hands one day. If Zeus Almighty still likes me enough by then to trust me with his throne, that is.

Pardon? Oh, sorry. I forgot to provide you with the necessary background. So, here we are, currently gathered at the atrium for a small cocktail reception before we proceed to another hall for dinner. Hate me all you want for playing the tour guide again, but you have to know this - the atrium is where the very heart of Zappeion Megaron is beating. The rest of this huge building is just vast halls, where other major events take place in the winter, but this is the only one that gets the most coverage. Every kind of major event can take place in here - from international and party conferences to fashion shows. It definitely looks grand enough, surrounded as it is by a Grecian atrium that spans over two floors, a black-and-white marble floor with what looks like a small oasis in the middle, and just the sky as your ceiling under normal circumstances. They have actually covered the roof tonight, to keep the cold outside, but it's still rather chilly. Grandmother and a few other guests actually are still wearing their coats, but I am too dedicated to couture to do that to myself.

So, I'm getting drunk instead.

Considering the circumstances as well, this is actually the best course of action.

But let me go back to Mother and Hephaestus for a minute. They continue to avoid me, too caught up in their discussion as they are to mind the rest of the world. From what I managed to listen, though, they both enjoy listening to the Hellenic Royal Navy Band. They are the orchestra that's keeping us entertained tonight and they keep themselves warm by playing various cheerful old Greek songs, apparently because they know that none of the guests are paying the any particular attention.

Poor them.

Sadly, the same does not apply to the poor waiters. They keep walking around in the atrium in their liveried uniforms and a silver tray full of glasses of wine in their hands. Needless to say, they're the stars of the show. Good for us, most of them belong to the royal staff and so they know our tastes already more or less. Why is that, you may ask? A combination of factors really. First, the Hellenic Police thought that it would be a great security measure since they already know those people and second, we're on a budget here. We can't afford to hire new part-time workers just for the night while there are perfectly capable people in the Royal Palace that could do the job just fine.

Personally, I pity them. It must be awful to spend New Year's Eve away from your loved ones.

But neither of us have another choice, I guess.

So, in short, keep the drinks coming. Tonight is the night of nights, my love life is in ruins, Hephaestus has turned into Mr. Hyde, and I want Zeus Almighty to accept the offer already!

Cheers!

* * *

Amphitrite had been so anxious to talk to Hera that, for the first time since marrying Poseidon, she almost forgot to curtsy to the King and the Queen. Good for her though, Hera had noticed and she had whispered that they would speak in private soon enough. Neither woman cared what their husbands would think. After all, they had also gotten used to their odd friendship as well.

It was only after Aphrodite and Dione had arrived and Their Majesties were finally done with all the handshakes that Amphitrite got the chance to tell Hera what the matter was. Hiding in an empty hall, behind a heavy iron door, Amphitrite finally felt comfortable enough to speak.

"You were right," she said, drawing a deep breath to keep from trembling. "A-about Ares and Aphrodite. He told me everything. H-he was drunk. He wasn't thinking straight. They had had a fight. It was terrible apparently. I don't know what about."

She was expecting to hear Hera's nervous footsteps echo against the marble floor as she was pacing up and down, to spot the anger and disgust in her voice as she was coming up with a plan, or having to wipe away her tears even, as she had done plenty of times in the past. Instead, there was silence. Amphitrite despised that. It always reminded her of the calm before the storm.

 _Please, do something,_ she kept repeating in her head, hoping that, somehow, Hera would listen.

But what could she possibly say? She suddenly felt as if the ground underneath her would grumble. That's what it felt like every time she found out about yet another of Zeus' 'indiscretions'. But this time around, she had known everything long before it was even confirmed. Ares' secret box was still in his room and it still contained all those pictures of Aphrodite. She could still remember their dance... As if the worst thing that could have happened had already taken place. She had tried to comfort herself by thinking again and again how she couldn't reverse the past. Yet hearing Amphitrite say thing those words felt... different. Almost like a threat.

And she hated that.

Amphitrite leaned against the wall and hid her face in her hands. Memories of that night came rushing back. She had found Ares wandering around in the empty Palace of Tatoi. They had had a conversation and she had comforted him as if he had just woken up from a nightmare. He had cried on her shoulder and she had reassured him that it would all be alright. Then he had told her about him and Aphrodite. Everything that had happened between them. She had heard her name right. Much as Poseidon made her doubt that, she was sure of it.

There was only one woman in this country called Aphrodite whom he could not have.

Silly her. Of course Hera would react as impassively as she did. It was always a hard pill to swallow when mere suspicions turned into the harsh, undoubtable reality.

Both women knew that well.

Yet she couldn't stand the silence any more.

"I-I don't know how I got involved with all this in the first place," she said. "It's not like me to meddle into other people's business."

Hera pouted her lips. Crossing her arms to her chest, she stared at the floor for a while. Amphitrite could see the expression on her face clearly. It was all that anger that she couldn't, shouldn't, reveal. Or else the consequences might as well be deadly.

"This is a family matter," Hera replied. Her voice sounded hoarse, much to Amphitrite's surprise. "Zeus will have to be told. Not tonight, of course. But soon enough." With that, she scoffed. "They are two immature children." Her eyes met Amphitrite's. "Two spoiled, immature children. That turned into destructive adults."

Amphitrite lowered her gaze and bit her lip. It was cowardice, she knew, but she wished she could just run away. This wasn't meant to happen. She had no idea what she was supposed to do. Ares had told her. She had promised to keep him safe. Hadn't she done enough already?

Sensing her distress, Hera approached her and, not caring about creasing her dress, she held her tight in her arms.

"It will all be alright," she told her, breaking the embrace. Amphitrite took a deep breath. That was all she needed to know. For now, at least.

Yet it was the odd sensation that someone was looking at them through the glass that made them both look at the door. The strange man looked familiar.

Oh, no.

"Mr. Petalas!" Hera exclaimed in surprise as she opened the door. Zeus and Poseidon were also standing nearby, waiting eagerly for their wives to end their 'gossiping' so that they could enter the atrium as they were supposed to. It may have been the shock of Hephaestus' presence or her husband keeping his eyes on them that made Hera welcome the intruder inside. Yet as soon as he stepped in, she found herself wishing she had kept him out.

Still, she couldn't help noticing that something had changed about him. He looked more courageous than when she had first met him a few days ago. But that might have been just her own impression.

He bowed his head. "Your Majesty. Your Highness." Then, turning to Hera: "Ma'am, may I speak with you? In private?"

Both women exchanged stunned looks. Instinctively, they knew what the matter was. Or who. Hera accepted, more out of curiosity than courtesy. In a hurry, Amphitrite curtsied to Hera once more and then she stepped back into Hall One, much to Poseidon's relief.

As for Hera, she would have to deal with him on her own right now. Taking another look at Hephaestus, she had to admit that the change about him had been positive as well as impressive. Now he resembled a man rather than a boy.

Under different circumstances, that would have been a good thing.

"You had better be brief, Mr. Petalas. What is it about?"

Hiding his hands behind his back, he clenched his fist. This is it, he thought. It's all or nothing; now or never.

"The Crown Princess, Ma'am. There's something you ought to know."

* * *

2007 is still not here yet and I have already consumed enough wine to last me for the next six months. At least. If I keep a steady pace, sooner or later I'll find myself in the back, singing trashy songs at the top of my lungs, with Peacock wishing I was dead already because I ruined her immaculately planned party yet again.

Oh, well.

Just kidding. I'm fine. I hope.

I am currently as far from the madding crowd as I can get, having found solace in an empty wide corridor to shield myself from their annoyingly endless and pointless chatter.

Ironically enough, it's all lit up. Pity I can't say the same about me.

Still, it's the only place where I can check my phone in peace, away from interrupters or Mother's disapproving stare. She has been keeping a watchful eye on me all evening, as if challenging me not to do what I had in mind. I can't hide from her. Heck, I don't even dare open my clutch in her presence to fool her. I wouldn't want to ruin tonight for her, not after everything she's been through because of me.

Whom am I kidding? She probably knows why I excused myself and rushed to my hiding place. But at least she's courteous enough not to ask.

Which, sadly, I can't say applies to anyone.

Astris has sent me about thirty messages by now, asking me if I am alright, if I have spoken with Ares, and whether Mother has realized anything. Much as I appreciate the sentiment, I don't have time for her right now.

God, I can't take it anymore. Ares is still nowhere to be found and the more he prolongs his silence, the more anxious I grow. I get it, I should have told him about the baby when I still had the chance, but can't he just... see? I did it for him. For us. He's just being ridiculous in his childish selfishness. But I am not going to call him. This hall has overwhelming acoustics. I am not risking being overheard by accident. We're not living in a movie.

Then again... Maybe I should be the one to take the first step. There is a thick icy wall between us and someone needs to break it before it's too late. Or rather not. I' could just stay here, leaning against the white wall and staring at my phone for ages, in the mere hope that it will ring and he might be waiting for me on the other line.

Oh gosh, this is horrible. I want him to call me for once. Just once! I need to hear his voice, to read the words he typed, to make sure he's fine. I don't care which way he chooses. Anything will do.

Anything!

Screw it. I can regret everything later.

I type two simple words: _"ΚΑΛΗ ΧΡΟΝΙΑ"_ , _HAPPY NEW YEAR_. My hands are trembling as I'm pressing the buttons and I feel goosebumps all over my skin. But none of that can stop me from pressing SEND.

So, I did it. It's out there. Soon enough, his own phone will ring and he will read the text. He might avoid it, laugh at it, or throw the device in the trash.

But I have done it. I have crashed that wall.

What is done, is done. I can't reverse it now. Can I?

Goodness me, I need a break.

"Your Highness?"

Great... I've been caught. By another high society lady who has been wishing to talk to me all evening.

She has a deep and annoyingly cheerful voice. A dreadful combination, really. I shouldn't face her. But I'm the only person with a tiara in here and she has already seen my face more times than she can count. It'd be pointless.

I'm too drunk to run in heels.

A deep breath later, I turn to face her and-

Oh my gosh, it's Peacock. Going through a second Peacock phase.

This is ridiculous. She doesn't even look like her! This lady over here looks at least a decade older than Hera, has dyed dark hair and... Alright, I do give her that. She does have Peacock's eyes.

Does that even make sense? I don't know. I'm not sober enough to give you a better description.

Just imagine your typical Greek woman in her sixties with Hera's eye-colour. There you have it.

Peacock would actually never wear that fuchsia gown with that golden embroidered collar. Or that hairpiece that looks like a hat.

And then I thought I was the drunk one...

Sorry, yes, back to reality we go.

How do you kindly ask someone to fuck off?

"Yes?"

She walks closer. Oh dear, she thinks it's an invite. But wait... I have seen her before. If only I could remember where...

"I am Mrs. Petalas, Your Highness." That name does ring a bell. But I won't remember it if we keep staring each other awkwardly like that. "The mother of your fiancé," she adds.

Oh great. Not only are Hephaestus and I engaged all of a sudden, but I also get to meet my mother-in-law-to-be in the worst night thinkable. Well, it could've been worse. At least she does look nicer than Hera. So, yes, that's a bonus.

As for that... fashion sense (god make it), I'm sure we can work on it. At some point. In the distant future.

Even if Zeus Almighty does accept Mother's offer after all, there's no way I'm leaving this poor woman to go out in public dressed like that ever again.

Yes, I feel very generous when I'm drunk. Ask me to give you some money the next time you see me like that. (My cousins are definitely smart like that.)

Oh deary me, she's coming closer. Good for her, though, she does have a gentle voice. That doesn't make things any better, but at least it makes them less worse than they were supposed to be.

"I cannot tell you how glad I am to meet you in person, Your Highness!"

Should I tell her that I'm 'Miss' after the first 'Your Highness'? Nah, better not. She'll find it out by herself at some point. I hope.

Preferably before I become 'her darling daughter' for all eternity as well.

Just try to find a way out, Aphrodite. You can do it. You have survived worse, remember?

"Yes, indeed, so am I!" I reply with the gentlest smile I can muster. I'll be nominated for Best Actress soon enough if I keep this up. "Now, if you'd excuse me, I need to join the rest of the party!"

She's too overwhelmed to react perhaps, so she just stands there while I gather all the courage and confidence left in me to walk away. On a cinematic note, the lace cape does make for a dramatic effect as I hurriedly make my way to the door and out of this... ridiculously hellish misery of mine.

Oh gosh, I am so relieved when I step back into Hall One that I want to stay here forever! Tell you what, turns out that Mrs. Petalas and Peacock do share something other than the eye colour after all.

They hate me. Each for their own reasons. And I hate myself too, for putting up with them.

Gee, if Mr. Petalas is anything similar to her, no wonder poor Hephaestus turned out the way he did. I mean... Aren't they supposed to be second cousins or something?

Ew.

Yes, I know, it's ironic. But they're related by blood for heaven's sake! Needless to say, I had the exact same reaction when I found out that Thunder and Peacock are third cousins to each other. They're royals though. Different rules apply to the likes of them.

I actually wonder what Hephaestus thinks of incest in general. It will be a fun way to help us bond, don't you think?

Suddenly, my phone rings. I open my clutch again, but before I even manage to take my mobile out of there, I throw it back inside.

It's him. It's Ares. He replied to my text message.

Oh dear, what do I do now? If I open it, I might get upset and people will notice. But if I don't, I'll spend the rest of the evening curious as to what he wrote. People will notice that as well.

Ah, screw it. It cannot be that bad.

I flip it open and press the big button. That's it. The message has been opened.

And it's worse than I expected.

He doesn't write much, yet he says a lot. _"ΕΠΙΣΗΣ", YOU TOO._ Which translates to, "You're a stranger to me." Which means, "leave me the hell alone."

Fine. If that's what he wants, this is what he gets.

I already have a date for the night. And he's waiting for me to join him.

Whatever it takes.

* * *

7:45 P.M.

Leaning against the wall, Ares removed the half-burnt cigarette from his lips. As he exhaled the thick smoke, he took out his phone and read the message again.

 _"ΚΑΛΗ ΧΡΟΝΙΑ"_

Aphrodite's words continued to feel like a big slap across his face. She was laughing straight at his god-damned face and he was a bloody idiot for letting her enjoy it. He could picture the look in her face right now. That sarcastic grin, the mocking gleam in her stare, the confidence that oozed from within...

He hated her. Every single inch of her. That's how much he loved her.

He couldn't tolerate the mere thought that she'd spend tonight without him. She looked gorgeous tonight. Like a vision in her long blue dress and her favourite diamond jewels. He had caught a glimpse of her from the live broadcast on TV, before someone decided to tune into a different channel and show the New Year's Concert on Syntagma Square. He wanted to be at Zappeion tonight, to touch her gentle arm and act like the protective "brother" trying to keep his favourite "sister" away from the prying eyes of other men.

Hephaestus mostly. Ares had seen how he had kissed the back of her hand and she stood by his side, beaming widely. Was it for the photographers or did she genuinely mean it?

He couldn't tell. She was a damn good actress. He should give her that at least.

His eyes ran over her words again. She wasn't angry or regretful. She didn't sound desperate either. Looks like Hephaestus or Anchises or whoever it was this time around had lived up to her expectations.

Stupid pricks.

Hell, he should've stopped them while he had still had the chance. He had tried. Damn well he had tried. He should've gone for Anchises too, while he'd have been at it. She wasn't in love with those guys! She was only doing that to sabotage him. That nasty picture on the cover of that gossip magazine? Yeah, that was her desperate attempt to draw his attention.

It certainly wasn't the first time. He knew that game well.

His head was aching. The ouzo they served in here was stronger than it was legally allowed and he had surprised his inferiors when he had announced that he'd drink. As far as he was concerned, he wasn't on duty tonight. So why shouldn't he? It helped him forget. It blurred his vision and fueled his anger, his hatred towards her. But he didn't care.

That woman was driving him on the edge.

Did he do the right thing by replying to her? Probably. At least he could rest assured that his own response was as indecipherable as her message. For one thing, that one single word conveyed his remorse towards her...

Loud, discordant voices could be heard from behind the door. All the soldiers in the base had gathered in the dining hall and were celebrating by singing various old tunes. None of them cared about the King and his fancy dress ball. They just wanted to enjoy themselves.

Perhaps they were right. But Ares couldn't share the sentiment.

He didn't want to go back into the dining hall. Their cheerfulness didn't agree with him. Instead, he made his way back to his office. He'd spend the rest of the night lying on that old, uncomfortable sofa, his eyes glued to the portable TV, hoping that someone might just take pity in him and show footage from the celebration at Zappeion.

He stared at his watch. Dinner was about to begin over there. Then his cousins would wander around in the room, asking the guests various questions. As far as he was concerned, there would be cameras in there to record it. There were over thirty TV channels in this damn country. One of this would be bound to broadcast it live.

Idiot, he muttered under his breath. Stupid bloody moron! Chasing after a woman who found joy in his suffering. But his uncle was right. If a woman is worth it, he should persist. Until the end of time.

She was. Damn well she was. Her love was poisoning him from within. But he didn't care.

He just needed to see her for fuck's sake!

* * *

Hera was transfixed. The mere audacity of this young man...

How dared he? How dared Hephaestus order her - HER! - as if he had every right to do so? He was an irrelevant. A mere insect, which was to be squashed with a single snap of the King's fingers whenever His Majesty felt like it.

She, on the other hand, was married to the bearer of the Crown. They were bound together by law and religious verdict. As long as Zeus remained on the throne, she was the closest to the Crown anyone could get. She had spent her entire marriage making sure that people (especially her husband's countless mistresses) wouldn't forget about it. She wouldn't cower now.

"Your engagement to the Crown Princess cannot be publicly announced without the official approval of both the Parliament and the King. I do believe that His Majesty has made himself perfectly clear on the matter. More than once."

Hephaestus didn't flinch. Still facing her, he kept thinking how accurate Aphrodite's description of the Queen was. Yes, she was intimidating. Even the rumours didn't live up to the truth. If he had a choice, he'd apologize to her a thousand times over before running away in fear.

But he had made up his mind.

All those hopes and dreams he had made of Aphrodite growing fond of him, even looking at him just like she looked at all the other men that had stolen her heart had nearly come to ashes. He had seen the cover of Gossip. He had recognized Anchises' figure from articles he had read in the past. He had even stayed up all night, looking back at what Eris had told him the night of the Queen's birthday.

He ought to be careful. Aphrodite set her own rules to the game.

Yet he hated that. Keeping an eye on her was not enough. Being patient, as the King had suggested, was growing him weaker every single day.

He had enough. He wouldn't tolerate seeing Aphrodite going from man to man whilst he'd remain on the sidelines. Neither could he tolerate the sight of Ares - or any of her lovers - treat him like he deserved to be pushed around.

Tonight, he'd act like a man for once.

And the Queen was the best person for the job.

"I came to you because I thought you could help me. I believed that you could convince His Majesty to-"

"To do what?" Hera's icy stare sent shivers down his spine. He didn't respond. That damn fear was still lurking deep within him!

The Queen fixed her already majestic posture to intimidate him further. She was expecting him to cower, which he did, although not as much as she'd like. "You cannot possibly believe that the King is in such a great need for you that he would break the law? Why, Mr. Petalas, you are becoming far too high-handed for your own good."

Hephaestus clenched his jaw. He wouldn't tremble. He wouldn't let his terror show. Holding on to his walking stick for support, he searched his inner pocket. His trump card was hiding in there. Drawing a few deep breaths to keep his hand from trembling, he revealed two pieces of paper.

Hera approached him, if ever so reluctantly. She didn't need to look at them twice. The one piece of paper was the slightly torn cover of that atrocious celebrity magazine with Aphrodite and that former lover of hers in the cover, whereas the second one... It was that dreadful front page of Ares and Aphrodite dancing. The one with the headline reading 'A ROYAL ROMANCE' above that horrendous photo.

She felt a tight knot on her stomach. It all seemed to be coming back. Their dance... That passionate tango and the glances they had exchanged... Her suspicions... The secret she had to keep...

She kept hoping that it was but a thing of the past. Yet, as with everything she wished to avoid, it came back to haunt her.

Hephaestus felt a renewed surge of courage wash over him as he noticed Her Majesty clenching her teeth. Perhaps now was the right time to push her against the wall. Gently, of course. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, I would have never dreamed of asking you to rush things. But, as you can see, I believe I have a very good reason for wishing to be done with it as much as possible." He hesitated for a moment, despite the obvious satisfied grin on his face, before uttering the next words: "As do you."

Lifting her eyes from the torn pages, Hera glared at him. Oh, how she wished there was a chair in this room, so that she could sit in it and give him a good lesson in status. If he was so eager to get his wish fulfilled, he had better learn the order of ranking, of who outranked whom, before it was too late.

After all, all chairs could be turned into thrones when the occasion called for it.

"I am a firm believer that people should not overstep their mark," she said bitterly. "Just because the King has treated you rather... favorably... does not mean that you should expect me to treat you with the same amount of hospitality."

You're confusing hospitable with hostile, Hephaestus thought.

"Nevertheless," Hera added, "my husband's wishes are also mine by default. This is my final response."

It was Hephaestus' turn to clench his teeth. She practically shut the door in his face, telling him to wait until Zeus would finally make up his mind. Yet, he had achieved his aim. He had seen fear drawn all over her face and he had spotted the glimpse of hate in her stare. Perhaps the next time he'd try to threaten her, he'd find a more convincing trick.

With a hasty bow, he fled the room as fast as he could, leaving Her Majesty behind. Relieved as she was to be on her own, Hera couldn't help noticing the trails Hephaestus had left behind.

The two pages were lying on the marble floor, scattered about as the disaster they had caused. Hephaestus may have left them there on purpose. He was certainly smart enough to do that...

Leaning down, she held them in her hands. Her initial thought was to tear them apart, cut them in a thousand different pieces, reduce them into mere rubbish... As if that could stop the curse that tortured her all week.

But then she thought twice.

Those might in fact be the solution to the problem; the key to her goal.

Zeus would have to be convinced somehow. And those conveyed the truth.

The door was left open. She could hear the familiar melody of Khachaturian's "Masquerade Suite" coming from the atrium.

How awfully fitting, she chuckled to herself.

She brushed her finger against Aphrodite's face, as if she could wipe it out of the page. Yet it was still there, pretty as ever, staring at Ares in the same loving way.

Like a mask.

But little did she know...

Tonight, at long last, the masks would fall.

* * *

 _9:00 P.M._

 _Hall Four_

Bad news: my parents-in-law-to-be (hopefully not) are still alive, well, and in here. Good news: there's food. Plenty of it, even if it comes in gourmet quantities. Now, you may think that those two things can in no way be associated with each other and you are right. But! As wise people always say, a little bit of creativity is all it takes.

No you fools, I won't throw the contents of my plate (or stomach) straight at them, tempting as this suggestion might be. It would make me stoop to their level, ruin my dress, and turn this whole gala into a circus. Then Hera will definitely despise me so much that she may as well send me back to New York for all I care. However, I came here to be a stylish, confident class act and I shall adhere to my status until the party is over. I may be a drunk one at that, but I am still standing and make coherent sentences, so I must be doing something right.

If you really need someone to worry about though, Zeus Almighty is just the man for the job. Not only does he look pretty oblivious to the drama that has been unfolding all around him tonight, but, like a true upper class gentleman, he's sitting right across from his wife and next to his ex-wife as if it's the most normal thing in the world. Oh, that's what I forgot to tell you. Mother is seated right next to Thunder. Why, you may ask? Because she's my mother. And the only Duchess we've got. And she's got way more money than the whole of the Greek mafia.

Well, you know what they say. Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer. If this was a late-night soap opera, my parents would also sleep with each other before the episode would be over. Good for the rest of humanity though, they've already been through that part, created me, and figured they wouldn't give it another try.

Either I was too perfect for this world or they already despised each other by the time I was born. Or both.

Probably both.

Where was I? Oh, yes, Thunder. Add some lightning and he'll get exciting. Be careful though. He's still the most relaxed person in the room. Look at him, sitting there in his comfortable chair, digging his silver engraved spoon into the white tomato soup (with a ravioli hidden in it for some reason) and talking absentmindedly with the wife of the Prime Minister. Bad for me, this is only the second starter of what is supposed to be a five-course dinner. I'd rather we just skipped past the macaroni au gratin (that's meatless baked pasta for you) and the reddened beef stew and jump straight into the chocolate soufflé. But I suppose that should be the least of my concerns for the time being.

To make matters worse, the entirety of the royal party (Hephaestus included) are all seated in the very centre of the room. So that everyone can see us apparently. All three hundred attendees are sitting in rectangular tables for practicality. It's actually faster to serve and clear the tables if they are organized in such a way.

It is interesting to observe Hephaestus' parents hanging out with everyone else, though. They have made quite the sensation already. I just overheard Uncle Poseidon call Mr. Petalas 'vulgar'. Now, some of you may not like my uncle, but there is a surprisingly vast amount of people in here that would agree. This is fun. It's quite literally watching the riches versus the grits in action.

Guess who's who.

Plus, they are the only people in this room that have absolutely no reason to be here. At all. They have received zero honours in service to the Crown. Zilch. Nada. Niente. Neither has Hephaestus, but he's supposed to be my fiancé, so he'll stick with us for quite a while longer it seems. By the way, he's sitting right opposite me - as protocol requires - and poor thing has Athena and Eris on either side. I would've rescued him if I could but he has been staring at me with such contempt tonight that I should not even give it a try. We're good just as we are.

That been said, I can now resume my conversation with the dean of the University of Athens in peace. He received the Order of Honour for his services to the letters, sciences, and public administration (yes, all three) some five years ago, is a widower, and old enough to be my grandfather so that makes him just the perfect fit for Athena. Peacock might have thought the same as well. That's why they're sitting right across from each other. I know what you may be thinking. What the hell is he doing right next to me of all people? Well... believe it or not, we do share the same artistic tastes. I am far from the intellectual that he is, but he does seem to appreciate my opinions on Impressionism in fashion.

No, I couldn't believe that I'd have that conversation tonight of all nights either. But with everything that has happened tonight, it's nice to be appreciated for my wide array of knowledge for a change. I'm nowhere close to giving a lecture about that in the University though, so the rest of humanity is safe.

We have actually spent the last ten minutes or so talking about how Paris became the fashion capital worldwide because of the impressionistic influence and whether it still deserves to keep this title. Sadly, though, the most interesting conversation I've had all week is interrupted by none other than Zeus Almighty. Thunder is standing up and is clinking his crystal wine glass gently with a spoon to draw all eyes on him.

He doesn't have anything interesting to say. He's just that desperate for attention.

"Dear guests, before we resume our dinner, I would like to ask you a favour. As you know, my mother, Queen Rhea, established a tradition forty years ago according to which the children of the guests in attendance are welcome to ask the adults various questions on different topics. Now, some children enjoyed it and others did not. Some of them might as well be shy."

The room bursts out laughing. Not I. I Have heard this joke so many times that it's not even funny anymore. Yet no matter how many times he's being told, he keeps repeating the same speech year after year after year. And here comes part two.

"When my own children were young," he adds, mocking pride, "we limited the number of those lilliputian 'journalists' to just the bare minimum. The Queen and I figured that it'd be a good way to teach our own children how to handle the spotlight."

And one hell of a grand job they did!

(Don't tell them I told you that.)

Part three: "I shan't be keeping you bored any longer." Another unfunny joke, yet once again the guests laugh. They'll learn. Just give them three more years. "Instead, I am very proud to welcome Prince Triton and the Princesses Hebe and Rhode in the room, to celebrate with you the fortieth anniversary of this tradition and to ask you questions to which you all know the answers!"

I'm pretty confident that Father was dreaming of becoming a TV host when he was young but then his mother changed his plans. That's why his speeches are always so lengthy and passionate. Some call it narcissistic, others good PR, 'love for the country and its people' or 'passion for the job', whereas another portion of the population simply wants him to shut up already.

Guess which category I fall into.

The tables have already been cleared of the soup and new dishes have been laid, so that means that I can prove to you that I am still my father's daughter by introducing to you... another royal photographer. Except that this one comes with a video camera that's already recording, apparently. Rhode, Hebe, and Triton are already in the room. Hebe is making her way to the stage (good for her, she's wearing one of those tiny mikes to her cheek, so that she can hold her cue cards) and Rhode stands right next to me. As for Triton, he takes his place right between Thunder and Mother. That's bad. Peacock will be mad.

I guess he can come to New York with me, then. He's his father's son. He'll love it!

Hebe confidently walks up to the small wooden 'stage' that has been set up at the far end of the room. It doesn't take her long to be ready. She has been doing that since she was five. She has learned the ropes by now. With a little help from me, of course. I actually used to act as the moderator too. Believe it or not, I was also her age once and, as the Crown Princess, I had to be the one on stage while my half-siblings had no choice but to ask the questions. Needless to say, they despised me for it.

Oh, well.

Fun fact: Hebe also outranks Rhode and Triton since she's born to Their Majesties. That's why she gets to do the top job tonight.

Oh gosh, I have another headache...

But I am the proud older sister. I refuse to give in to the damn pain!

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" Hebe says confidently. Oh my little darling! I just realized just how much she's grown! "Rhode, you are reporting live from Athens!" That's the nickname of our table. That's how this game goes. Each table is named after various cities of Greece. Mr. Petalas and Mrs. Pinky's table is called 'Chania', which is a town in Crete, because it is so far down the room that they might as well be in actual Crete for all I care. "Who did you meet there?"

The camera is now close to me and thank goodness I don't look as tipsy as I actually am. Remind me to give my makeup artist a raise before I forget all about it.

Rhode brings the heavy black mike close to her lips. "Thank you, Hebe. I am here with the Crown Princess." She turns to me now. And here I'm about to become a national embarrassment yet again. "Your Highness, you look spectacular tonight!" I burst out laughing, like everyone else in here, because... well... I wasn't really expecting that one now, was I?

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

That's it. My time has come. "Oh, I am having a wonderful time and thank you for the compliment too, Rhode. I actually think you look lovely yourself but thank you!"

Phew, that was an easy one. At least I should be happy I'm not Zeus Almighty. Triton is currently asking him what his favourite kind of gyro is.

Enjoy it while it lasts, folks. This moment comes but once a year!

* * *

 _9:10 P.M._

Eris felt like taking the chance.

Hephaestus being seated by her made her feel like she had won the lottery. At long last, she found something amusing enough to care about. The night had been uneventful for her so far. Stranded in a room full of familiar faces with unknown names, she had no choice but to enjoy her drinks, try and engage in small talk with the guests, and keep an eye on Aphrodite. Poor thing was trying so hard to hide her absent-mindedness by appearing cheerful. But the more she tried, the more obvious it became. As for her mother, the Duchess of Dodona, she kept avoiding the Queen and vice versa. Pity. She had been relying on them for some old-fashioned family drama on a night like this.

Whom was she kidding? Hera and Dione had become professionals in concealing their true feelings towards each other after spending all those years in the spotlight.

Hephaestus on the other hand...

She wasn't held back by the camera in the room. On the contrary, being caught talking would earn them some praise from her father that at least she was trying her best to welcome Hephaestus into the family. He was, after all, going to be her brother-in-law.

Wasn't that her father's wish, after all? For Hephaestus to join the family so he could have access to Mr. Petalas' money?

Well, in that case, she ought to be congratulated. She was only helping the King achieve his goal.

Only with a twist.

"You cannot say I didn't warn you." Hephaestus turned to face her. The stunned look in his face increased her confidence in her plan. "Regarding the Crown Princess, that is," she added. "Look at her. She has spent more time talking with the guests than with you. I wonder, why should that be? My own mother taught me that, when a woman is escorted somewhere, her... date... should be the only man she has eyes for!"

Hephaestus scoffed. Much as her company was unpleasant, he was too kind to tell her off. Plus, the children were wandering around in the room, asking the guests various silly questions while being followed by a TV camera. What message would he send if he suddenly got up to leave? And with that physical impediment of his...

Unabated, Eris continued her skillful work. "Though... you ought to be glad that Prince Ares is not here tonight. How unfortunate would it have been, for you to relieve the same old pain that you felt when you saw them together on the Queen's birthday?"

"Didn't Mother teach you that it is uncouth to overstep other people's boundaries?"

Hephaestus felt relieved at the sound of Athena's voice. Conveniently enough, he was sitting right between the two women, with Athena to his right and Eris to his left. Very much like the good sense and the evil one. He resisted the temptation to look at Eris' face, leaving it to her older sister to mess with her.

"I do believe that she has scolded you on the matter more than once!" Athena added, confident of the quasi-maternal control she had over her younger half-sister.

Eris remained silent. Realizing that the game was over, she excused herself hurriedly before focusing her attention on her cousins and little Hebe getting on with their stupid game. Still, she needed to get rid of the frustration caused by Athena's interference. Hiding her hands underneath the table, she dug her nails deep into her skin. It wasn't as good as clenching her jaw, but at least it wouldn't be caught on camera.

Glad to be rid of Eris and her antics, Athena leaned over to Hephaestus and whispered in his ear, barely loud enough for her half-sister to listen. "You should be treading carefully with her," she said.

"Why does she act like that?"

She turned over the knife. It was the same as shrugging her shoulders. "It is a long story and one that we don't like to talk about. But then again, that's the way things are in this family. We're full of secrets."

Although it wasn't a warning, Hephaestus couldn't help perceiving it as such. Aphrodite was sitting across from him, but she might as well have been miles away. She wasn't facing him; truth be told, she was busier staring at the amusing round of interviews.

The gown she was wearing tonight was fitting. It made her look like a fairy in his eyes. Prettier than all the other mortal women in the realm, seducing in her beauty and yet too far away for him to touch her. He could see her, yes. But then again, fairies always appeared before stupid people.

He gasped when she turned to face him. She was wearing the gentlest smile he had ever seen on her face.

Could it be? Could his wish have been fulfilled at last?

But no. It wasn't that. The little girl's voice behind him made sure to remind him of it.

"Your Highness," Rhode asked Athena. "Could you name the smartest person in this room?"

Aphrodite's eyes met Hephaestus' as the crowd erupted once more into laughter. There was irony in her stare, as if she was challenging Athena to say his name.

Hephaestus couldn't help it. Every time she looked at him, he felt even more of an idiot than he already was.

Especially tonight.

* * *

 _11:40 P.M._

Much to everyone's relief (and subsequent joy), the post-dinner reception took place in the nearby Halls instead of the atrium. That part of Zappeion was left to the care of the experienced staff, who were cleaning it up and removing the ceiling, so that the guests could enjoy the fireworks that'd chime in the new year.

That moment was only twenty minutes away, as Zeus noticed by a quick look at his golden watch.

Taking another sip of his much-needed black coffee, he looked around him at the buzzing room. He enjoyed hearing to the cheerful chatter of his guests, as they enjoyed yet another glass of wine, champagne, orange juice or ordered the coffee of their preference. Normally, he hated that part of the night. Deep down, everyone was eager to be done with it and go home.

He wasn't surprised. Tomorrow would be a long day as well.

At least the music was better this year. The Hellenic Royal Navy Band, taking up the entire right side of the room, were keeping everyone entertained by playing various well-known tunes. He chuckled. For once, Hera didn't care about constituency when it came to music. They could play whatever they felt like. It wasn't like anyone would pay attention to them, as long as it sounded familiar.

He put his hand in his pocket, to enjoy the much-deserved fruits of his labour. In a few minutes, he would accept Dione's money and all of his troubles would be over. Almost instinctively, he spotted Mr. and Mrs. Petalas. Neither of them had received any honours in service to the crowd, nor could be considered government officials in any way. They had only been invited because of their business activities and useful acquaintances. Hera had protested, of course, claiming that, if they were to be treated like members of the Royal Family, they might as well join them officially.

Funny, how the tables had turned. Her initial aversion towards Hephaestus and Aphrodite's union had been replaced with a rush to get them married. Why? He didn't know. Neither did he want to find out. His wife's entire worldview was complicated. Despite their long marriage, he still hadn't been able to figure it out entirely. He wouldn't trouble himself with that now. It was too late.

Suddenly, he noticed a young woman a short distance away. Her golden gown embraced her tall and slender figure, whereas her chocolate brown hair fell down her shoulders in soft curls. (Truth be told, they were tempting to touch. A bit too much.) The way she stood allowed Zeus to take a glimpse of her gentle smile and how it accentuated her pretty brown eyes. It was the most beautiful sight he had seen in a while.

Who was she? Someone's date, obviously. She wasn't wearing a sash or any other kind of a medal. Besides, she looked rather young to have been honoured by the King for her service to the Crown or the country. She didn't look any older than thirty.

Perfect.

He handed his half-empty cup to a passing footman. He didn't need to drink the whole thing anyway. Yet, as he was about to approach her, he felt someone standing right next to her.

Poseidon.

With a sudden surge of new-found confidence, Zeus pointed to the young woman. "If you weren't so preoccupied with your wife, I'd suggest you'd give that one a go."

Poseidon scoffed. "And if you could just open your eyes for a change, you'd see that there are people around."

It was only after he uttered those words that he realized what a lame excuse they were. They had played that woman-hunting game in such a crowded place. Big parties always left room for privacy, after all. But he had given Amphitrite a promise. She might have spent all those years turning a blind eye to his affairs, but even she had grown sick of it.

Now, looking at how persistently Zeus stared at that stranger, he felt disgusted with himself for falling into that trap as well.

All of a sudden, his phone rang. It was Amphitrite. Hera had made up her mind.

He patted his brother on the shoulder, knowing all too well how much that annoyed him. "Come," he told him. "I need to show you something."

Zeus snickered. "I thought you were done with that game!"

Poseidon didn't reply. He figured he'd better not give any explanations. After all, he had a bit of trouble understanding it all himself. A few hours earlier, Hera had told Amphitrite that it was too early to let him know. Why the sudden urge? And why the secrecy?

Women, he thought. Indecipherable creatures.

Filled with curiosity, Zeus followed Poseidon to the conference room. Conveniently enough, it was far from the halls the reception was taking place. Yet the oddness of it all stroke him. What had happened now?

The two men stepped in, only to find Amphitrite sitting by a desk. She looked worried, as if something terrible had happened. Or was about to, judging by Hera's expression, who was standing nearby.

Hera didn't waste a minute. She immediately pointed to an empty leather office chair in the middle of the room. It was too much for the occasion, but it was the only one they could find in there.

"Sit," she said sternly, her eyes never leaving her husband. "There is something you need to know."


	30. Author's Note

**Hey y'all! I know I haven't updated in a while and I'm sorry but that's because I had to deal with some personal stuff and the uni workload. Exams are coming up and I need to focus on them, so I'll be free to focus back on this story as early as August :( So, until then, take care and thank you a thousand times for the support :)**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Hey y'all! I know, I know, I'm horrible, but the past five (?) months or so have been awfully crazy and they gave me very little time to write. BUT I finally got back to writing and decided to make a comeback just in time for Christmas :) I also started to rewrite this story in my native language (Greek) with tons of changes to the storyline, so if I write something in here that doesn't add up with the rest of the story as you have followed it, you know what to blame.**

 **So, Merry Christmas to those celebrating, Happy Hanukah to all Jewish readers (if there are any) and a Happy New Year to everyone, regardless of religion :)**

 **As always, reviews are welcome :)**

* * *

 _31st December 2006_

 _Zappeion Megaron_

 _11:45 P.M._

Nada. Nichts. Zilch. Niente.

He hasn't called. He. Hasn't. Called. Not even once. Neither a message nor a call. Not even a wish. Or the slightest sign that he's alive. Just so I can keep my hopes up that things will get better between us. Eventually. One day.

Or so I hope anyway.

Alright. I get it. If Ares doesn't want to make the slightest bit of effort to win him back, I won't pay him the least bit of attention either. I'll simply pretend he does not exist. And I'll damn well succeed in that.

Just wait and you'll see.

Oh god, who am I fooling? I mean, look at me! Hiding in here, with all that hustle and bustle going on in the atrium. 2007 is about to be chimed in and I stand in here, the very definition of royalty, looking like yet another wreck. Well, I might as well be. Judging my all that alcohol I have consumed today.

It's a miracle I haven't found myself vomiting my guts out tonight yet. And no, before you ask, that's not the language royalty use. But give us a break, will you?

No, for real though, help me here. What should I do? Should I call him? Should I wait for him to call me? And what if he never calls? What if I'll spent the rest of my days stuck in here, staring at this stupid screen?

Well, don't look at me like that, I've never dated Ares before! I mean I don't even know if what we're doing right now can be considered as dating or as anything but...

See? Told you! This whole situation is bloody confusing!

Oh, how I wish I could just call someone... Anyone... But Astris is still very much pregnant, my Three Graces have their own parties to attend and, well... I do not have any friends that I can confide in regarding that issue. I guess you could say that I fear they might sell this story off to the wrong people I guess.

But still.

"Achoo!"

Oh, no, that wasn't me. Wait... So, if that wasn't me... and still sounded close enough... Then...

Great. Just what I needed. Another person in my hiding place. I don't have the time nor the mood for them. But I cannot keep them hiding in there forever, now, can I?

"Who's there?"

A hand pops up from inside a room. Well that's something. Then I'll see the head and then I'll be able to tell you if it's a boy or a girl. But, good for you, I don't have to. I wouldn't keep my hopes up in your place either.

It's Hephaestus. Do you remember him? That good ol' pal of mine? The one that I'm supposedly engaged to? Gatsby personified? Or was he supposed to be Buchanan...?

Whoever came up with that comparison in the first place anyway?

And why the hell does he keep staring at me like I just got him red-handed?

"Well, great," I say, very annoyed as you can imagine. "What do you want?"

Needless to say he looks... surprised. Startled. Like he's just seen the greatest miracle of his life pretty much.

I know I look great in full regalia. Let's move past that.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness," he replies and bows. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"But startle me you did!"

Oh, for heaven's sake, Froufrou, where the devil are your manners?

To hell, last time I checked. And having an jolly ol' time too.

Poor Hephaestus now looks even sorrier than before. "I- I do apologize. I didn't mean to..."

Great. A deja-vu just about now is exactly what I needed. "Why are you hiding?"

"I am avoiding the big crowds," he says. "Like you."

"Ha! I'm not avoiding anyone!"

"Then, if I may, what keeps you hidden in here for most of the evening?"

This is so going nowhere. "Did you know I'd hide in here?"

He shakes his head. "No. No, not at all! I just..."

"Just to make something clear," I cut in. "What we do have is mere blooming friendship. If you give me my space and I give you yours, we can make sure that this will become something more. Besides, neither of us is certain that we will get married after all!"

There! I said it! Finally! Oh god, it feels so damn good to be relieved!

Please don't take that last bit the wrong way. You can see the context.

"You... could try and be somewhat friendlier yourself, then."

Wait... What was that? That thing that he just said?

Calm down, Aphrodite. Take deep breaths. You'll find your way out of it, I'm sure.

"I cannot be kind tonight. If you dare ask me why, I shall never talk to you again. Is that understood?"

He bows but that smile on his face still remains.

Well then. Time to play my one last card. "Excuse me."

I walk out. There is only so much that I could take.

Lesson I learned today: being the top corner in a love triangle is damn hard work.

And don't try to change my mind.

I'm already drunk enough.

* * *

Zeus could not believe his ears.

"You're mad," he spat, scanning the three people in the room. "All of you."

Amphitrite dug her nails deeper into her skin. Poseidon had been right. She shouldn't have said a bloody thing. Ares had trusted her, opened up to her, and she had betrayed him in return. Yet, all she wanted was to protect the family from harm. Such an atrocity could not be kept a secret for long anyway. But perhaps she had done it the wrong way.

After all, Hera had always been better at dealing with such things than her.

She was also the only one that dared stand her ground against Zeus at this time.

"Don't believe us if you wish," she snapped. "But unless you drop that sarcastic grin of yours-"

"Hera, please!" Zeus interrupted her. "Do you really want me to believe this? They are siblings, for heaven's sake!"

" _Adoptive_ siblings!"

Amphitrite bit her lip. Sensing her distress, Poseidon put his arms protectively around her. Noticing them, Zeus asked them to leave. This was not a discussion they should make in front of an audience - even if said audience had consisted merely of their informants.

Poseidon and Amphitrite had been all too happy to oblige. Hurriedly leaving the room, Amphitrite held on to her husband's arm as firmly as she could. Once out into the long empty corridor, he asked her if she wanted a drink. Amphitrite nodded. A shot or two of ouzo just about now would be just what she needed.

Inside, Hera thought the same.

Zeus put his hands into his pockets and stared at his polished black shoes. Hera felt uneasy. She knew that, every time her husband did that, she was in deep trouble. But she had no other choice. Too many things had occurred which Zeus had to take care of. Their bankruptcy, Hephaestus, Dione... This... He just couldn't do it alone. He wouldn't last.

Yet, instead of treating her as an ally for a change, he persisted on treating her as if _she_ were the enemy.

"If only you would just say something!" she spat.

Zeus stared at her. "You have evidence, you say?"

"Indeed."

"I trust they are reliable," he said. "Since you believe them!"

"Ares confided everything to Amphitrite one night when he was drunk. That's all!"

"And why do you tell me now?"

Hera gave him a stern look. If he were smart enough, he'd find the answer to that question by himself.

"I must admit, I do admire your sense of timing," he added. "You know about Dione's offer."

The Queen fixed her posture. "Indeed."

"Then you also know that I would be an idiot to turn down such a tempting offer."

She didn't hold back. "You're selling off the family."

It was Zeus's turn to clench his teeth. Approaching Hera, he said, in what may have been a threat: "This family won back the throne because of them. You know that better than anyone."

"It's been twenty-five years, Zeus!"

"So?"

Hera took a step back. "That doesn't mean..." She took a better look at Zeus. "You haven't!"

"There now," he patted on her shoulder. "I trust your fair judgment!"

She wanted to hit him. My god, she despised him! But she couldn't.

He had always been the one to make all of the decisions.

He had been the head of the family. She simply had to follow.

Just like she had always done.

* * *

 _11:50 P.M._

 _Atrium_

Helloooooooooooo world.

Oh no, don't worry, we're still stuck in 2006. For now, at least. Frankly, I have no idea why they brought us all out to the atrium, where the roof is now wide open. It's cold and everyone here has to cling to their coats while they attempt to mingle with people that they never liked and who they will continue to dislike for years. But! Peacock had set out this precedent and everyone must follow! Yes, even the ones that want the evening to be over already.

Which, by the looks in everyone's faces, that includes pretty much... all of us.

"Why does everyone look so stiff?"

That was Hebe. She managed to sneak into the room so she wouldn't have to chime in the new year in the company of people her age. Frankly, I'd have loved to switch places with her, but unless I hide her under my coat - as I have been faithfully doing since she was a tiny little elf - no one will. (Alright, well, perhaps Eileithyia would, but she's still her mother's daughter.) And why do I do that, you may ask? Simple. The girl wants to see the fireworks and it is my duty, as the eldest sister, to ensure that she will. And then I'll give her a good talking to as to why sneaking out in a room full of adults in formal wear is actually pretty dangerous for her. And then I'll hide her under my coat again next year until she's too big to fit in, in which case, sorry honey, but no atrium for you until you're eighteen years old and adorn your very first tiara.

Who made those stupid rules, by the way?

And where the devil is my mother?

I swear, she was here just a while ago. And then she disappeared. Her and Zeus Almighty. Peacock is here, talking to aunt Hestia as if nothing is the big deal. Oh gosh, what if... Is that why I feel so queasy?

Well I can't do it. Not right now. I cannot possibly fathom the mere possibility that the new year might arrive and I'll be in the bathroom, doing what every other person who's had a little too much to drink is supposed to do. I can hold on a little while longer. And then I'll probably do what other people in here have already done and sneak out into the small garden nearby and just... do the deed.

But for now, I need to hide Hebe. And I need to worry about my parents. And Mother's offer. And Ares.

Why, why doesn't he just pick up the goddamn phone!? Why do I have to stand there, enduring Hephaestus's presence in the room, who tries to humiliate me by promptly avoiding my stare? Well, so be it. If the offer doesn't do the magic trick of freeing me from this ridiculous arrangement, our discussion a while earlier surely will. Besides, even in the odd case that it hasn't, I will still have the upper hand in that marriage. I am the future of the Crown, for heaven's sake!

"Ouch, you're hurting me!"

I look down at Hebe. Easy to do that with the thickness of the crowds. "Sorry, honey."

I must have held on to her a little bit too tight. I do dig my nails deep into something every time I am upset. My baby sister's shoulders was probably the "victim" this time around.

"I don't like you when you're upset," Hebe whispered a bit more. "You act all funny."

I tickle her a little, just to the nape of her neck, and she titls her head to indicate for me to stop. She's very ticklish, this one, and unless I stop it soon enough, the entire room will find out our little secret. And then, bye bye little birdie. See ya when you're eighteen - if your mother has forgiven you by that point to let you join them, that is.

Well, at least there will be fireworks at midnight. Just like every other year.

And we're supposed to like fireworks. Aren't we Hebe?

"I want them to be colourful!" she whispers again. "More colourful than ever before!"

"Me too, darling," I reply. "Me too."

* * *

Dione stepped into the room. The note that she had been handed by some footman was safely hiding in her purse, away from the prying eyes of the world and Aphrodite's anxiousness. She had read it as fast as she could.

The King would like to talk to her.

In private.

She was hopeful. At long last, Zeus would give her the answer she so longed to hear. He had made up his mind. It was her offer he'd finally settle for.

Yet, facing him, she started to doubt. His shoulders were tight; he was clenching his fists. How awfully easy he was to read... Even after all these years, she could still remember what the slightest gesture signified.

She was still afraid of that determined glimpse in his stare.

He didn't waste a second: "Tell me the truth about your offer."

She stopped on her tracks. What could she possibly say? There was obviously more to that question than he dared reveal.

Zeus crossed his arms. It only made him appear more determined. "How much do you know about Ares and Aphrodite?"

Dione scoffed. So that was it, then. He did find out the truth after all.

"I didn't stop her because I want her to realize for herself what a grave mistake that was," she said. "I know, it was terribly naive of me. But you know our daughter. She's like a child. Naughty, until she realizes that what she is doing is indeed inappropriate."

"Inappropriate?" he snapped. "Is that how you would describe it?"

"We did not come here to discuss adjectives, Zeus!"

He took a better look at her. She just looked so... different dressed like that. Tiaras had always suited her. But that didn't mean they also befitted her.

"You didn't curtsy," he said.

"Why the need?" she replied. "We are on our own, aren't we?"

"I still personify the Crown."

"I see," she nodded. "And it should always come first, shouldn't it?"

"For fuck's sake, they are siblings!"

" _Adoptive_ siblings!"

It was Zeus's turn to scoff. How awfully alike Dione and Hera were at times! As if he had never really divorced Dione at all. As if he had married the same woman, only with a different face and a better political instinct. All they both wanted was to protect the family. Yet their greatest difference lay in their methods. Hera's focus was the family as a whole. Dione's, on the other hand, was merely the individual concerned.

That might have been due to her not fearing scandals anymore. She didn't have anything to lose but a little bit of her dignity and a small amount of her money. The Monarchy, however, was different. One misstep and everything would turn to ashes.

Still, the Oceanides family remained Zeus's only way to survive. They had made sure of it once, nearly thirty years ago. They would definitely secure the Throne for him this time around as well.

If only he played by their rules.

Hera had been right. He was indeed selling their family off. He had thought about it over and over again. Still, no matter the many sleepless nights he had spent tossing on his bed, he always reached the same conclusion.

He ha had no other choice.

"Now," Dione interrupted his thoughts, sounding impatient. "Do you accept my offer or not?"

"On one condition." He avoided her stare. "You make sure that Aphrodite has found someone else."

She drew a deep breath. "In that case," she continued, "you should make sure to keep Ares... otherwise occupied."

"Sleep soundly."

Dione smiled. "Thank you," she said. "I sincerely wish the same for you as well."

Zeus had no idea how to react. Better her than Hephaestus, he thought. At least the Oceanides family would never take advantage of their royal connection. Not in the obvious way that the Petalas family would have done. He knew them. He could trust them.

If only he could hope that he had not just made his greatest mistake.

* * *

 _1 January 2007_

 _Midnight_

 _Atrium_

"Three... Two... One... Happy new year!"

Everything goes into a frenzy. Champagne bottles flash open; fireworks explode above; my mobile phone rings.

It's Ares.

I... I don't... I can't... It's neither the time nor the place. There's people all around. Thick crowds that keep embracing and wishing each other all the best. But I just... cannot join them. I'm too confused to do so.

Actually, I have no idea how I'm supposed to feel. Happy? Mad? Or relieved? Or all at once, even?

Mother takes my hand. She asks me if I'm alright.

"I'm fine," I reply. But she knows that I don't mean it.

She clenches my hand and gives me a reassuring grin. "Smile," she says. "You'll make a spectacle of yourself otherwise."

That's the hardest bit.

The crowds are cruel. And so are my feelings towards him.

Damn you, Ares! Why do you constantly have to make everything so bloody difficult?

* * *

 _Army base, Alexandroupoli, Northern Greece_

He smashed his phone against the wall.

That's it, then. To hell with her. He had done what was expected of him. He had tried to get her back. She turned her back to him. Alright. He could live with that.

They had always been a mistake together anyway.

But why? Why was it so damn hard for him to stick to his words? He stared at the broken pieces on the floor, approached them and started to put them back together. He turned his mobile phone on again. He'd have called her. Asked for a second damn chance. Perhaps she'd pick it up then. She'd apologize to him a thousand times over, he'd persist that he had been the wrong one all along, she'd burst into tears and get him back into her arms like nothing had ever happened. There'd have not been any fight over babies that shouldn't have been born or weddings that should never take place. Aphrodite would be his again.

And come whatever the hell may.

No. He was too selfish for that. If he tried to call again, he'd display weakness. Cowardice. Aphrodite had apparently made up her mind by now. She had chosen Hephaestus. The weakling. He'd make her happy. He'd give her the adventure she so longed for.

Whom was he kidding? Her fiancé would never. He didn't have the damn guts required to give her what she wanted. Aphrodite liked herself a chase. A game of hide and seek. Without it, love was nothing. She had to come after the men she desired, or else, what was the point?

Ares had been one of her multiple victims. He was aware of it. He knew that he had occupied the most special place in her heart - he had been her greatest conquest so far. She had accused him of being obsessed with her. Well... Same for her.

Maybe she hadn't picked up the phone all that time so that she would spite him. Test him. Perhaps she turned it off this time for the very same reason. Alright, then. He'd go on playing by the rules.

He was but her humble servant, after all.

* * *

 _Private Quarters, Royal Palace_

 _1:00 A.M._

Frustrated by his inability to fall asleep, Zeus turned to the side and stared at the adjacent door. A few years ago, he'd have opened in, stepped into Hera's room, and tried to persuade her to be on his side again. But he knew better than to make such a fool of himself now.

 _Damn you, Hera_ , he thought, as he punched the pillow supporting his head.

He had watched her from the minute they left Zappeion. His eagle stare had followed her into her room, as her maid helped her transform from the Queen back into an ordinary woman. First the tiara, then the rest of the jewels, and finally the dress, all neatly handled and stored into wooden boxes and nylon cases. Yet she had refused to remove the expression of her face. She had noticed him, of course. She had felt his eyes on her as he, himself, had been having his own regalia removed only to become a troubled man on his bed, struggling with his thoughts in the early morning. Her refusal to talk to or even look at him revealed to Zeus that it would be a tough few days ahead for the two of them.

Zeus got it. Hera had wanted to teach him a lesson. He had finally understood why she had disapproved of Aphrodite and Hephaestus's betrothal so eagerly at first, until his daughter's behaviour made her change her mind overnight. She loved her family too much to see them sold off like that. Somehow, amidst all that chaos, he must have promised her that he'd protect them from harm - any kind of harm. Yet, be it the alcohol or the exhaustion, he could not bring himself to remember such words coming out of his mouth or the moment he had made himself that promise first before moving on to announce it to his spouse.

 _Damn you, Hera._

He wouldn't apologize. For his part, he had done his duty by protecting his family and the Monarchy from harm. He had known destitution. He had to live with it for a good ten years of his life, whilst his country was still under a tumultuous dictatorship. True, he had begged for money. But he'd much rather humiliate himself behind the heavy doors of his office rather than to do so over wine and champagne in some Greek tycoon's house in London or New York. His mother had always told him that people may have no control over their weaknesses, but they should choose between revealing them to the world or keeping them to themselves. He held the most extraordinary office in all the land - in every sense of the word. Being a monarch had always been the most solitary position. No one could understand how heavy the Crown felt on someone's shoulders or how fragile it truly was. All it took was a fall. A mere forceful fall, and the hundreds of precious gems that gave the Crown its brightness and significance turned into various shiny stones on the floor. Broken and alone.

He detested that. He had to keep true to his promise - both to the people and to his mother. He wouldn't be the King who'd fail. He wouldn't be the end of the dynasty. He'd abdicate once Aphrodite was mature enough to make as little mistakes as possible - even if it meant following the traditional route and making her wait until his death. His legacy would be one of greatness and to achieve that, he had to be as wealthy as he looked.

Theirs was a dangerous world. It left no room for missteps.

Hera understood that as well. Hence the lack of sleep on her part. They were selfish people, the two of them. If only Zeus had listened to her fair warnings all along, if only he had not acted as that stubborn child he has always been...! They'd have never found themselves enslaved to the Oceanides clan for life, losing Aphrodite from their tight grasp and living in fear of not losing what they spent so long acquiring. Yes, it was tough to be Queen. She constantly had to stand by her husband's side, helping him shine and keeping him from harm. The occasions that demanded her own voice to be heard had very little to do with his own agenda. A Queen was powerless in the presence of a King; yet she was just as significant. The brightest jewel in his collection. His most trusted advisor, for she could see the toll the Throne took on him. Yet Zeus was as stubborn as a small child. He was drawn to shiny things and every time he fancied something, he had to have it at once. That's why he had married both his wives in such a rush. Did he regret it? She hoped so. Only thus could he be taught a lesson.

So, they were back to their familiar ways again. Her wishing to have her voice heard and him acting in spite of her. For the good of the family. For the future of the Monarchy.

"Goodnight, Zeus," she heard her voice whisper in the dark.

Pity she couldn't hear, behind the locked door, her most familiar sound, muttering to himself: "Goodnight."

* * *

Nothing else mattered in the present. Just their music.

It filled the room. They were alone. At long last, they returned to the safety of their familiar surroundings. The world outside that door was strange. Dark. Well, of course. No sane person would dance at this hour.

And after such a feast too.

It was over. My god, it was over.

"Ares and Aphrodite are someone else's trouble now."

Amphitrite held on to her husband for dear life. Once again, out of sheer habit perhaps, she felt guilty about something that was not entirely her fault. But she hated to see Hera in distress and she couldn't bear the thought that she had been partly responsible for that.

The Queen couldn't suffer yet another blow to the well-being of the family.

No one could, really.

But Poseidon was smiling. He was cheerful again, after what seemed like forever. She adored seeing him this way. Still dressed in his tuxedo and in full regalia, he was enjoying his drink - "the last one for tonight, I promise" - and tapping his foot to match the rhythm. Amphitrite was not quite sure whether she should join him in the celebration or not. Yes, she was relieved. But she couldn't fathom the exact reason why. Was it because Zeus and Hera knew? Was it because she was tired? Or was it the thrill of the new year? Either way, she knew she shouldn't trouble herself over it. What was done was done.

Even if she wanted to turn back time, it was too late now.

Besides, that night came only but once a year.

Poseidon, noticing his wife's absentmindedness, took her hand and twirled her unexpectedly. His grip on her was strong, almost forceful, and as she twirled in her heavy gown and jewels, she lost her grip on the glass of red wine he had offered her. It splattered. On the centuries-old handmade carpet (one of the dynasty's heirlooms), on Poseidon's fine tux, and on Amphitrite's skirt. They didn't hear the glass slipping from her gentle hands and breaking on the carpet, on the very spot it soaked.

Neither spoke. They stood apart, his hand still firmly holding hers, and stared at the disaster they caused. Their clothes were ruined. As for the carpet, someone would fix it.

Someone else, surely.

It was always up to other people to fix this kind of things.

Poseidon cursed himself for his clumsiness silently. He ought to remind himself every day that he ought to be gentler with Amphitrite. She was his own little precious Pearl, after all.

He remained silent, out of fear for having ruined the celebration. This night, this tradition of theirs, came but once a year. It was their own way to chime in the new year, away from the sneering crowds, the loud chatter, and the prying eyes. It was just their own little thing. And he ruined it.

But Amphitrite's giggles proved him wrong. She covered her mouth with her hand and laughed like a small child that had just eaten all the chocolate.

And suddenly, the old tango tune was replaced by another, finer music.

He loved to hear her laugh. It made him feel like everything would be alright.

She left the spur of the moment lead her to his arms. Closing her in his embrace, he held her close and they began to sway to the rhythm. They shouldn't speak. But they couldn't resist the temptation either.

"Happy new year, Pearl!"

"Happy new year, my love."

* * *

The party is over. No more flashes. And no more fairytales.

First goes the cape. The gown looks much simpler now. Boring, even. Anna stands behind me and unzips it carefully. It falls to the floor. I step out of it and take off my heels. Before Anna could even pick it up, I ask her to leave.

I want to be alone.

She nods. For once in her life, she'll put nothing in its place. She can always do that tomorrow. Besides, I rather like this view. The abandoned gown on the floor, rid of all its formidable glory.

Just like it should.

I stand before the mirror. My jewels are back in their boxes. Neat and tidy, waiting for that armed officer to come and put them back to their vault. Until the next time they will have to come to light. If the occasion falls for it.

Nothing remains from that gala. Just my messy bun and my makeup. But they will be gone too, before even dawn breaks.

Say whatever you want; I just can't take it anymore.

The King knows. _Father_ knows!

I could see it in my mother's eyes as she sat next to me. I read it again and again in the text message she had sent me. Try as I might to convince myself that it had all been an awful lie, the words were still there. Unchanged. Cruel.

At that very second, I realized that my wishes would remain hopes. I should feel ashamed. But I did nothing wrong, did I?

I just... fell in love.

What could be so hideous about that?

Why did everyone have to be make feel so disgusted with myself?

And why did I let them?

If only I could somehow turn back time... I would undo everything that reminded me of him, starting from that very night. In London. Perhaps, if one of us had pulled back... If one of us had tried to speak some sense into us, right there and then... Maybe I shouldn't have attended that party at all. It would all be better then.

No broken hearts; no fire within.

No damn pain.

So, why the need? Why cling on to the protection of a stupid mask?

Everything has been destroyed. Hasn't it?

I dig my nails into my hair. I start to pull at my chignon, as hard as I can. I want to destroy it. Hairs and bobby pins fall to the floor, but I don't care. I want to hurt.

Who knows? Maybe I'll finally convince myself that my tears are worth something.

I'm tired. Tired of fighting, tired of screaming into the void...

Ares is right. I'm not strong enough. I cannot stand my ground in the battlefield. I can only act brave when people call me a coward. Well.. that, at least, us two have in common...

That's why it's so damn hard for us to get to the bottom of this. We're both too selfish for our own good.

What we had could have been wonderful. In another life.

I fall on the bed and burst out crying. It'll ease the pain.

That's the way it always is, isn't it? Each tomorrow is a new beginning. Until the sun sets again. Then you start over. Again and again.

Until life has passed you by.

I do not need any blankets. I don't need to keep myself warm. Besides, the sun will rise soon anyway.

If only daybreak would work its magic this time. I wish for it all to just... stop...

There has to be some way out of it.

I just can't take it anymore.

* * *

The stars were dark tonight.

It was always like that in here. She missed her home, she longed to go back.

But what was home to her anymore?

Is that what she had been her whole life? A runaway? She was constantly looking for a place to hide, to escape the most vicious, most improbable enemy.

Herself.

 _A Crown does not make one a King._ She had uttered those words right there, in that very room. That night had been as dark as this one. She had stepped in dressed like a Queen. Wearing the same tiara and a deep blue gown.

Oh, how she had loved it so!

It had reminded her of the Cretan sea; of all those peaceful mornings she'd stroll along the empty beach with Zeus in her arms, a baby growing into a toddler.

That year had been 1962. She had just witnessed her husband's ascension. He Greece had now a new King. And Cronus, drunk as he had become from all that wine, had wished to celebrate, in the only way he knew best.

She had locked herself in there, hair askew and out of breath, in search of a refuge. Zeus's scattered toys had filled the room. And he had been sleeping soundly on his bed, at seven years old, blissfully unaware of the grim world outside. She had removed her tiara first, then the light blue sash, and finally the star. Laying by his side, she had taken him in her arms and had begun to sing. A lullaby. The very one she'd sing to him as a baby, hidden in that cottage, crying himself to sleep.

 _Sleep, my beautiful day and night with the small stars /_

 _Oh, my pretty garden, filled with flowers and jasmines_

Yes, that was home to her. Embracing her darling son, she could transform. From scared to brave; from crying to smiling; from vulnerable to impenetrable...

She had held him tight. His little body had become her shield. Keeping her from harm. Teaching her to live again. One step at a time.

Her breathing had synced with his.

What could he have dreamed of that night?

Somehow, she had always wondered. Did her children dream? Did she? Since when? All those cold nights by Cronus's warm skin, she had learned not to trust illusions.

Nowadays in Crete, she took random glimpses of old photos. They flooded the walls and the heavy furniture. A way to remember; a way to forget.

There she is, facing the camera. Cronus lurks behind her, in his astonishingly obvious majesty, his hands behind his back. Like a shadow. Like a ghost.

This is the sole picture she's kept of him.

And she was smiling. Oh, how pretty was her smile! For the first time in her life, she had faced her worst fear. She had stood up against him. To protect her son from harm. Cronus could not touch him with her standing in the way. Slowly, steadily, her other children became aware of her. They followed suit.

 _It's hard to make up for the years you have lost._

Nights kept her awake now. Since she had arrived here, she could hear his footsteps echoing outside her door. Safe as she knew she was, she pictured him handsome and alive, crawling into her bed and causing her the worst of pains.

Turning her dreams into nightmares. Her visions into reality.

Robbing her from her own self.

Was she going mad? If so, could she blame her?

She had spent the evening trapped amidst a crowd. A vain mob of unknown faces and incomprehensible chatter. Yet, in a funny way, they provided the perfect hiding spot. They wore her out, gave her a headache, forced her to consider...

She took another look outside the window.

Oh, the beauty of the darkness! The faintest glimpse of light was enough to illuminate it, to set it all aflame. To destroy its magic.

Truths and lies. The eternal battle.

She'd see him again. Soon enough. She'd visit him in that house that everyone believed was theirs. Isn't that where he had lived since she had gone away? A prisoner of his own seclusion?

He must have changed. He was certainly older now, if that could ever be possible. His hair must have turned whiter. More wrinkles should be scarring his face.

He was getting older. Frailer.

Just as she was.

They didn't have much time left.

She looked at the picture again. She had hidden it between her clothes in a small suitcase. Just as she had carried her jewels to safety the night they were forced into exile. Thirty-seven years ago. Might as well have been a lifetime.

She could feel his touch on her skin. It was harsh. Cold. Very much like tonight.

But she didn't tremble.

She'd free herself from his grasp. For twenty-three years, she had been trying to forget. Hidden in a house by the sea, buried amongst the trees... Like that mob she so loved to despise.

But it wasn't enough.

Pain ought to be shaken to the core. To be crashed down and destroyed. Only then could light conquer darkness.

She took the picture in her hands. Her wrinkled, tired fingers softly caressed her youthful, paper skin. And then his. She drew a deep breath. Another look into his determined eyes.

Her heart began to beat again.

Out of nowhere, she heard a voice. One she hadn't heard in years. Barely audible at first but steadily growing louder and louder. An echo turning into a scream.

 _You don't scare me anymore._

It had belonged to her young self. The words she hadn't dared utter back then.

She threw the photo to the floor. It was just a piece of paper. Nothing more. And he? He was just a man. A man who was old and tired. He could no longer hurt her. He wasn't strong enough for that.

She drew another breath. She heard the voice of that woman again. Time had left its mark on her.

"You don't scare me anymore."


End file.
